Streets of Westerville
by Bust-my-buttons
Summary: When Burt dies things get complicated. Kurt's aunt suddenly wants custody over him and moves from her sunny life in California to live in small town Westerville, enrolling him at Dalton Academy to avoid bullies. Bullies they don't have at Dalton, but a guy with a New Year's resolution and unrelenting friends is to be found.
1. Beautiful things

******A/N:** God, this is scary.

This is my very first fanfic! I am so thankful already, if you've read the summary and thought positive of it. As already mentioned, I am a new writer of fanfiction, and I'd love to get better - so please, after reading, consider leaving a review :) The song of this chapter is called 'Beautiful things' by Gungor, and I can highly recommend listening to it. Now I won't make one of those super long author notes for the first chapter, so just go on and read!

* * *

_Chapter one: Beautiful things_

* * *

**December 31.**

**Blaine**

"Anyone got any New Year's resolutions?" Jeff inquired softly from his seat in front of the TV. He was leaning against Wes' knee, just barely keeping his eyes open. A count down on the screen told the little gathering consisting of Jeff, Wes, David, Jon and Blaine that midnight was only twenty minutes away. They were all simply in their Dalton hoodies and various colors of sweat pants. After a long discussion about how they should celebrate new year's, starting just after Christmas, they'd all agreed on a simple get together with take out, popcorn and sparkling cider in one of Dalton's common rooms.

They all took a minute to think before answering. Blaine especially was going through his options. He had a lot of resolutions, but none he felt like he could tell the guys about. No, he wouldn't confess to his plans of rereading the twilight saga before the next movie's release date. He absolutely wouldn't tell them of the promise he'd made to actually help his older brother out the next time he needed a partner for an audition. And he wasn't going to tell them about his resolution involving finishing the letter he'd once started for Katy Perry about how enchanting he found her music. He hated being seen as stereotypical gay, and though he knew, his friends wouldn't mock him – or at least they only would as a joke – he just couldn't reveal those.

Luckily David seemed to have already made an official set of resolutions to share with his friends.

"I'll try paying more attention in class, actually do my homework earlier than the night before, and Rose keeps dropping me these hints about what good boyfriends are supposed to do, so I guess I'll try to please her too, if that's possible," David said with a smile.

"So you basically plan on living a couple of extra hours a day?" Nick laughed.

"No, I just plan on being less lazy," David said. He sat up and started refilling their cups to have them ready for when the ball dropped, while Jon explained his plans for the new year.

"I plan on taking up running. I played tennis before my transfer, but since I started rooming here, I haven't really felt like playing, so I thought I'd start running instead," Jon told them.

"Would you like some company? I'm dealing with a little bit of holiday fat and I'd really like for it to be gone by regionals," Blaine asked from his seat on the couch, where he was toying with one of his slippers.

"Sure! That way we can hold each other to it, too." Next in line was Wes.

"I don't really have a resolution just a goal. I want to take the Warblers to nationals," he said followed by cheers from all boys. They were all in Dalton's glee club, the Warblers, and were just as determined to be best in the country.

"And we'll make it this year. How can we not? We've never been vocally stronger thanks to Blaine's transfer and Luke's high notes and last year at regionals our weak links were the one thing pulling us down in the judges eyes. I have a good feeling about this year," Nick announced and the others agreed by making a toast.

Blaine hadn't been drinking much that night, still scarred from the last time he'd let himself drink and had woken up in a bathtub with a girl, whose name he'd forgotten. None of the others were drunk either, but had all had more than him for sure.

"My resolution involves less girls. Seriously, I've been on dates with so many different girls this year I wouldn't be able to make you a list," Nick revealed with a sigh. Suddenly Jeff and Jon were looking at each other and started listing girls' names.

"There was Tanya, that blonde one Olivia, Madeline and what was the girl with black lipstick's name? Lulu? Lola?"

"Luna," Nick said without looking at his friends.

"Luna! Of course how could I forget," Jeff laughed and continued by listing even more names.

"All right, all right I think people get the point. I should flirt less and start focusing on relationships that actually have a future," Nick said and suddenly all eyes were on Blaine, who hadn't really been involved in the whole name listing game. He looked up and found all his friends looking at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked looking confused.

"What's your New Year's resolution, Blaine?" Nick asked him.

"We haven't heard Jeff's either."

"Don't try and change the subject," David laughed. Blaine's cheeks turned pinkish.

"What is it that you can't share with us? Is it about boys, because we can listen to you drooling over guys just as well as when we drool over girls," Wes assured him with a smile. Blaine's heart was warmed by that, but he still couldn't find a resolution to tell them about.

"And for that I'm really grateful, but it's not about a guy. I don't know. I don't have something I wanna change in the new year, I guess," Blaine said, shrugging. His friends shared a couple of glances before David nodded and moved, as if to let Blaine in on some big secret.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but we sort of already made you a resolution," he started. "You see, the guys and I feel like people are taking advantage of you way too often, Blaine."

"What?" Blaine chuckled, but all around the room his friends were looking at him, serious expressions on their faces.

"Yeah, like before the holidays, you and I were walking down the hall, and some dude from your history class came up to us and basically asked you to write his report for him," Wes argued.

"He just wanted to borrow my notes, Wes," Blaine patiently explained accompanied with an eye roll. Jeff then moved a little closer.

"All right, how do you explain how you ended up washing cars all afternoon for a car wash helping _ the Crawford girls_ raise money for their annual trip to Boston?" he asked.

"I wanted to help them out! They're our sister school – it's not like they're total strangers. And half of them never even showed up, so they really needed a hand," Blaine told his friends, who were all just shaking their heads.

"Right, and what was it that kept them from showing up?" Jon asked.

"Some sale at the mall, I think. It's been months, guys, I don't remember," Blaine sighed still not getting the point.

"There was no sale, Blaine. They all heard you'd show up and do all the work, like you always do," Nick spoke, desperately trying to get to his friend.

"People are using you, Blaine," David said, serious expression on his face.

"You're making me feel like a virgin in need of protection here. I'm just being friendly, guys. I really don't need this whole intervention-thing," Blaine said, sending all of his friends smiles. Of course he knew, it wasn't normal for people to ask each other as many favors, as he was asked, but he always just blamed it on him being easy to talk to. He didn't mind borrowing that guy his notes, and it had been his own idea, he'd get Blaine's last report on the subject too. The guy had only intended on using it as inspiration – that was all right, right? And the girls that had showed up at Crawford Country Day had been so grateful, they'd taken him out for lunch afterwords. Sure, he'd ended up paying for some of them, since they'd forgotten their wallets, but it wasn't like he couldn't afford it.

"Fine, I was hoping to avoid this one, but what do you call what Jake was doing to you?" Jon asked, not showing any emotion as Blaine winced at the name of his former crush's name.

"I don't know. But he wasn't taking advantage of me!" Blaine defended, but his friend just shook his head with an overbearing expression on his face.

"How many times did you go out? I mean both coffee dates, those trips to the movies and everything else."

"Uh, maybe five times? I don't really remember." Blaine remembered the number all right, but he had a feeling the higher it was, the stronger Jon's argument would be, so he kept his knowledge to himself.

"And how many times did you pay for the both of you?" Jon asked.

"_Lialtme_," Blaine mumbled.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Jon asked, putting a hand behind his ear, smiling triumphantly.

"Like all the time. He never paid," Blaine sighed. "Okay, fine, maybe I'm too nice, but the world needs nice people!"

"You're not simply being too nice, you're being pushed around, Blaine. You're a push over!" David said, and though his words hurt a bit, Blaine finally seemed to get the point.

"Fine. This year I'll try to say no to people. I promise not to let myself be used for favors," he sighed. "Now, can we please just count the seconds till midnight and all dwell, on how we have no one to kiss?"

"You want someone to kiss? You could have just asked!" Jeff grinned, and suddenly he was pinning Blaine to the floor, making kissing noises at his friend.

"Jeff, get off me!" Blaine laughed, but he felt good. He _had_ thought of it being exhausting to always agree with people, and kind of looked forward to actually saying no. He was walking into the new year with a solid promise that he intended on keeping.

* * *

**March 9.**

**Kurt**

Kurt was biting his nails. Never before had he lowered himself to that. Even as a kid, he always managed to keep them out of his mouth. He couldn't count for when he was a baby, but he couldn't remember a point in his life, where he'd felt the need to bite and keep biting.

Many things had changed for him in the last week or so. His skin was suffering from him never leaving the hospital for anything other than new sets of clothes, which Carole often brought him anyway. He could now navigate through the many halls without even looking at the signs, and that alone was enough to freak him out a little.

One day he'd been on a lower floor, looking for a particular nurse, when he'd walked by the pediatrics ward. He'd never been in the hospital as a kid, so he hadn't seen the ward either. A girl in a wheel chair had been looking at him, and he'd felt dizzy. Quickly he'd walked passed it, leaving the girl behind. That night he'd had a nightmare involving huge lady bugs trying to tie him to a bed with wheels on it.

"Hey, Kurt," Finn's soft voice greeted, as his awkward teenage form settled down beside Kurt in a chair matching the one, he was sitting in himself. He just nodded to let Finn know, he knew, he was there. "Any news?" Finn asked after a while.

"No, they're still operating," Kurt whispered, for the first time noticing, how little he actually spoke those days. His voice was sore and unused. He was annoyed that Finn simply couldn't ask his mother, but when he looked to the chair Carole sat in, he saw why he hadn't. She looked dead in the chair, and had it not been for the steady rhythm of her chest rising and lowering itself, he would have been seriously concerned.

"It's going to be all right," Finn soothed, and an awkward hand petted Kurt's shoulder. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the gesture, but he had no extra energy to praise Finn for his attempts of comfort. Sometimes having befriended the teenager beside him, was more like having a dog; praise it, and it will do anything to receive same treatment; feed it, and it will forever respect you; and when you're sad, it will automatically get sad too.

"Mr. Hummel? Ms. Hudson?" Kurt looked up to see a middle aged doctor with a very sympathetic look on his face. Kurt's heart already knew, what that meant, and he found he had a really hard time listening to the doctor, but was confirmed in his theory, as Carole let out an involuntary sob and grabbed for his arm. Tears started to run down his cheeks. People were trying to tell him things, but everything was silent to Kurt. Silence was the absolute worst thing about hospitals.

_edited 12.28.12_


	2. This is the life

**A/N:** So, here's the second chapter :) I am overwhelmed by the positive people on this site - you all rock! I feel like I must have posted something I wasn't aware of, since you all liked it so much... I mean it was only 2000 words? :) Anyway, here's 7600 for you - enjoy!

I forgot to mention that we're in the year 2010 and that Blaine's story starts at New Year's that year (after the episode 'Sectionals'), while Kurt's starts in March (just before Theretical, which means Burt hadn't asked Carole and Finn to move in). I hope that answers some questions or gives some perspective at least.

The song of this chapter is rather well known and is called 'This is the life' by the Scottish singer Amy McDonald. Again I can really recommend listening to it!

Oh, and please consider leaving a review! :)

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_Chapter two: This is the life_

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**March 16th**

**Kurt**

You'd think your bed would be the one place for you to find peace. You're alone in a dark, cool room only disturbed by a trapped fly or the sounds coming from outside your window. But when all you really need is to not be alone, going to bed can be a daily struggle. No one in the Hummel house had been sleeping well, since the man of the house had not returned from the hospital. Mornings were quiet and evenings became later and later, since all three occupants dreaded the night and it's many long hours of darkness and no sleep.

Kurt had actually managed to fall asleep that night, but just like any other night, his mind simply wouldn't leave him alone. A terrible, specially designed nightmare kept forming inside his head.

_Kurt is pacing around his room, waiting for someone. After what feels like hours a door opens and his father stands in the door frame with a smile on his face. _

"_Dinner's ready, kiddo," his dad says and turns around, as if to leave the room. Kurt feels this all consuming anger form in his chest and jumps on his father's back, screaming at him for leaving without a single good bye. He scratches his dad's face until blood is running down his cheeks and pulls his clothes, until it tears. But at the end, his dad only turns around and he's still smiling. "We're having pasta tonight."_

_Kurt is then in class watching how the hands on the watch skip past each other, like they're dancing. Then a knock stops his whole existent, and a doctor walks into the room, jumps on him and tries to strangle him. Suddenly his class mates join in, and he feels hands all over him scratching, pulling, while watching the watches hands dance around on their pale background._

Kurt jolted awake.

His first thought was to make it _stop_. Because the feeling of being hurt by twenty sets of hands didn't disappear as he woke. Only he didn't know _how_ to make it stop. He took a couple of seconds to bring himself back to his dark bedroom, by burying his face in his hands. He was shaking with a need to be held. Held really close. Even a simple touch to his hair or a hug of his shoulders would do it. He'd been getting cravings of touch ever since his dad stopped giving them to him, but whenever Carole would put her arms around him or Mercedes stroke his cheek, he'd feel a need to pull away even though it felt _so _good to be comforted by touch.

After a while he put on slippers and walked up the stairs. It'd been the same dream ever since they came home from the hospital. Some nights it had extended scenes filled with pictures of a sobbing Finn, or a picture of Carole on the kitchen floor desperately crawling towards a chair. But most nights it was just those two scenes – the one with his dad, and the one where he got to relive the day he got the news.

When he turned the corner in the hall, he caught a glimpse of someone in the kitchen. He carefully opened the kitchen door, as to not scare the person, whom he then identified as Carole in her pajamas and slippers. As he entered the kitchen, she looked up from the kitchen island, where she was standing. Her eyes and cheeks were red and she was not even trying to hide it.

"Hi," she whispered. Without another word she opened her arms, and Kurt curled his back to let his head rest against her shoulder, as he exhaled deeply. He felt like stepping away from her, but the hug wasn't just for him – she needed it just as much.

"I thought you went to sleep," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"I thought you did too," she responded and buried her face in his hair.

"Nightmare." That was all the explanation she needed.

"Kurt, I'm... Are you hungry?" He knew she was about to say something about being sorry, but they'd already covered that one. He was sorry that her boyfriend was... not there anymore, and she was sorry that... he'd lost a father.

"No," he mumbled and let go of her. He looked into her brown eyes and decided, they both really needed this. He lay one hand on her wrist, connection their dark forms right there in the kitchen. "What happened?" he whispered. She didn't need any explanation to know what he meant.

"We lost him," she said, tears staining her voice. He shook his head.

"Wh-what happened to him, Carole?" he got out. She inhaled and tried looking anywhere but at the teen before her, but then her eyes determinedly returned to his, as she took a deep breath.

"He died, Kurt."

* * *

**March 17th**

**Kurt**

At school most people were walking on eggshells around Kurt. Never had he gone that long without having a slushie thrown at him. Never had he been offered as many solos in glee club. Never before had people come up and patted him on the shoulder, as if they were old friends. He somewhat understood his few friends' reactions, but those random shoulder pats were what confused him. Were they messing with him? Would they just stop bullying him from one day to the next? Would the sudden friendliness wear off after a couple of weeks? It was really messing with him, not knowing if he'd walk into a jock with a slushie around the corner. Sure, his status as a cheerio had given him a status boost, but he'd still been gay and very flamboyant, so the bullying had never _really_ stopped.

Maybe they'd stay away because of... his current situation. Maybe being an orphan and a cheerleader could outweigh being in glee club and being attracted to guys. Plus they'd always explained the bullying with being his own fault for being too flamboyant and too expressive. That they couldn't complain about anymore. After his father... passed, he stopped really caring about something as shallow as looks. He'd go to school dressed in a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers or in his cheerleading uniform. So maybe, just maybe, they'd lay off.

As the bell rang students gathered around the doors to go to class, and before Kurt knew it, he was standing alone in the hall. He picked up his bag and hurried to his English class. When he stepped inside, his teacher had already started the lesson, but yet again being a new orphan kept him out of trouble. She simply let him find his seat without even commenting on his being late.

"All right, so I read your papers over the weekend, and I can't say, I was impressed. We _just_ went through intertextuality! And none of you thought of pointing out the symbolism of the apple. Now, from where do we know the apple?" the teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, asked the class.

"Twilight?" Jessica Branch said from the mid row, which resolved in a deep sigh from the teacher.

"Not exactly. Twilight got the apple from somewhere too. Where could that be? Mr. Schwartz?" Oliver Schwartz looked up from his phone, and if Mrs. Jenkins hadn't noticed him texting before the guilty look on his face completely gave him away.

"Eh, the one with the dwarfs?" he said, giving their teacher a little more satisfied look on her face.

"Snow White, it's called. And yeah, there's an apple there, but it's still not _the apple_ that I'm thinking about. And put that phone away. Anyone?" She let her eyes wander around the class and stopped at Kurt sitting there by himself looking down on his table. He had withdrawn from the class completely as of lately, and she did not like when her students resigned from her class.

Kurt felt her stare and knew what was coming, when she readied herself to speak again.

"Kurt? What apple am I talking about?"

He knew, what she was referring to, but couldn't find the energy to care, so he simply shrugged, encouraging her to ask someone else.

"Fine," she sighed. "Anyone else? It's the oldest story of time," she hinted. Suddenly Joanna Miller got it. "Yes, Joanna?"

"The bible. With Adam and Eve. They had an apple, right?"

"Yes, and that's exactly the one I'm looking for here. You see, the apple's been a symbol ever since people became christian. However it's not always a symbol of wisdom like in the bible. Oliver mentioned Snow White. That's a wonder tale, so we don't know for sure if it's written in a christian society. Now, what could the apple be a symbol of in a story like Snow White?"

Kurt had sort of stopped paying attention in class, ever since his father got in the hospital. In the beginning Carole had been after him about homework and showing up for classes, but when his dad... when Kurt had become an orphan, she'd laid off of him, and just let him do things his own way regarding school. He'd been back only two days after, which had been his own choice. He didn't see the point of moping around the house. He'd be alone too. Finn had gone to school after only one day of skipping, and Carole had shifts at the hospital, she couldn't trade. Kurt had developed a small fear of being alone. If he was always with someone, he wouldn't break down as easily. Only twice had he cried in public, one of the times being, when the doctor had told them at the hospital. The other time had been on his first day back, when Rachel had tried getting him to talk about his... loss. That had been the last thing, he'd wanted, and since that breakdown his friends had only offered condolences and never even mentioned for him to share his feelings.

"Remember how the Queen gave Snow White the apple? What was she doing?" the teacher hinted, but her class really was clueless, not even Kurt knew, what she was fishing for anymore. "Okay, if Wendy and I are friends," she started, and received chuckles around the classroom, when Wendy just sat there with a surprised expression towards her teacher. "If we were friends, and I then did something to hurt her, what would I have done?"

"Gone behind her back?" Eliza Cowan suggested.

"Well, that too, but how would Wendy feel?"

"Betrayed?" Collin Boggs in the front row said and Mrs. Jenkins broke into a smile.

"Yes! She'd feel betrayed, because I was her friend. So what can the apple be a symbol of?"

"Betrayal," Kurt said, while looking his teacher right in the eyes. At first she was thrown off by the fact that he was even talking, but then she smiled wryly.

"Exactly," she said, just looking at him for a moment, before returning to her teaching.

When the bell rang Kurt went to put his books in his locker. He was stopped however by a certain cheerleading coach in a hot red tracksuit with a fierce look in her eyes.

"Porcelain," she called, making him stop to listen. "Why are you not in your uniform?" He looked down his body and discovered that she was right - he was wearing normal clothes.

"Uhm... I forgot about today's practice, I guess. I'm sorry, coach," he said a little confused. He could have sworn he'd put it on that morning. Was he really _that_ unfocused?

"I can't say I'm surprised, baby face. I haven't seen that little tush of yours at practice lately," she said with a stern look.

"My dad... I lost my father last week," he explained, still having trouble saying the words.

"I know that. You'd think it was the exit sign on Titanic the way people people have been talking about it. Note's were _all _over the teacher's lounge last week. Keyword being 'last week', porcelain. Now, I understand you having to take a few days off, since Figgins is determined that we're all human – oh how wrong he is – but one can not be a cheerio and not show up for practice for an entire week," she told him. He _had _been missing training. He'd even missed a couple of glee club rehearsals. Everyone had told him to 'work at his own pace' and 'take his time', but before him was a woman, who'd never make compromises for _anyone_.

"Yes, of course. I just... I've just needed some time, but I'll be better. I'll definitely be there today, I promise," he said with an pleading look. She looked, as if she was considering.

"Have you seen the sign up sheet for the cheerios? I have won _five _national championships for this school. I've only been accepting your absence because Creepy Vest and the redhead convinced me to wait before kicking you off the team. That and of course our plans for nationals. Tragically I can't seem to find another male able to sing Celine Dion in French around this school," Kurt was used to her inhuman ways of speaking to kids, but it was kind of getting to him, how insensitive she was being.

"Coach Sylvester, I am sorry for missing-" he started, but was cut off.

"I believe you no matter how much my instincts are screaming at me to just give up on you. _I_ believe in _you_, Porcelina. Coming from me that is the biggest compliment, you'll ever get, trust me on that one," she said gently patting his cheek, obvious to the hurt look on Kurt's face.

* * *

**January 17th**

**Blaine**

"Could you pass me the salt please?" Blaine's mother peeped from her seat between Blaine and her husband at the Anderson's dinner table. Blaine reached for the salt shaker at the same time as his father, and both retreated at once. Then his dad sighed, grabbed it and passed it to his wife.

Family dinners were rare and in Blaine's opinion not at all pleasant. Luckily it would only be once a week at the most, but Blaine dreaded those nights anyway. His mom would be in the kitchen, cooking something that could win a beauty contest yet so tasteless, you'd think you'd put air in your mouth. She'd never been one for spices, and as soon as dinner was on the table, they'd all grab for salt and pepper trying to make the food taste of anything really.

Blaine would be at Dalton all week, so it was only on the weekends his parents had a chance to ruin his nights. He would usually get out of dinner on Saturdays and then attend on Sundays. Excuses could be emergency study session with Jeff, party at David's house, too much homework or a stomach ache.

"How was your week, Blaine?" his mother asked with a smile. He poked the chicken with his fork and readied himself to speak.

"It was good. I got an A on that essay on great personalities," he said and looked at his father. He was chewing on a piece of salad looking bored. "Remember, you helped me with it last weekend, dad?"

"Right. Eh. What ehm who were you writing about again?" his father asked, brows furrowed. Blaine felt like sighing. Of course he wouldn't remember.

"Princess Diana," he told him.

"Yes, of course. I remember," his dad insisted.

"Don't you have some sort of competition coming up, honey?" his mother asked, not obvious to her husband's disinterest in her son, but she chose to ignore it.

"Yes, the Warblers are going to regionals in a few weeks. We're practicing for it almost every day at the moment," he answered. His mother would attend competitions, if nothing more important came up, but she was always horrible at keeping a calendar, so sometimes she'd forget. Of course he'd lost all hope, of his father ever attending one of his competitions a long time ago.

"You get to sing?" his mother asked.

"Well, I'm the lead soloist, so yeah I get to sing," he responded, swallowing another piece of dry chicken along with a couple of overcooked peas.

"Right. We should go, shouldn't we, Tom?" she proposed, but her husband cleared his throat and told her, he'd be out of town, and why couldn't she try and remember his schedule just for once. He then stiffly thanked her for dinner, grabbed his plate and glass and without another word left the table. An awkward silence spread at the table, but was broken by Blaine's mother's sigh. "I'm sorry about that, honey."

"It's fine," he mumbled, even though it wasn't. Something would always anger his dad and leave him with his mother, who'd be desperate to not choose a side. She brought the napkin to her lips, wiping her mouth carefully as to not ruin her lipstick yet still get any leftover juice from the chicken off.

"Uhm if you just put your plate by the sink, I'll take care of it later. Just... Would you have me excused?" she said in a low voice, sad look on her face.

"Yeah, of course," Blaine mumbled, as she scooted out her chair and shortly after ran up the stairs, calling for her husband.

Blaine let out a deep sigh and went to clear the table. Only ten minutes had they been in the same room, yet Blaine felt utterly exhausted.

* * *

**March 18th**

**Kurt**

Finn had made it his special project to cheer up Kurt. So far he hadn't had any success, but having a goal to fight for in those dark times, when he felt more like curling up in his dad's old chair with an teddy bear, which he totally only kept for comfort, was what kept him going. He'd tried playing video games with him, but Kurt had just rolled his eyes. Finn had tried telling him of how he would eat a sandwich or run labs when he felt down, but Kurt had excused himself with a headache and gone to his room. Finn was so confused – why was this dude so damn picky? Finn had always felt uncomfortable about Kurt, and when the guy had developed a crush on him, he'd been downright terrified of him. He'd hated when Kurt had encouraged their parents to start dating, but they had sort of come together on trying to split them up again. Then Finn had found Burt to be a pretty cool guy, and Kurt had freaked, though Finn was not really sure why. Then Burt had gotten sick, and Carole had been pushing him into caring a bit for Kurt. He felt really bad for him, knowing how it felt to not have a dad.

But Finn had a really hard time coming up with ways of comforting Kurt, until he thought of that one time he and his mom had slept over at the Hummel's house, and Kurt had brought him warm milk at night.

He quickly checked the fridge, and luckily his mom had remembered to buy low fat milk. Ever since Burt had passed, and they'd moved in with Kurt at his house, the household had started lacking basics. She would be so forgetful – something Finn had never experienced before. She'd be cooking something and suddenly discover, she hadn't turned on the stove or start preparing something else entirely without hesitating.

Finn got the milk, brought out a casserole, but then he was lost.

"What are you doing, honey?" Carole asked softly, as she entered the house through the kitchen door. She'd been at the garage, picking up the mail. A sign telling costumers who drove by that the shop was currently closed down due to Burt's passing had been put in the window of the shop the day after he died. Finn had promised to do some shifts, but the shop wouldn't be open the way it was before. At least not as long as Finn was still in high school.

"I thought, I'd warm some milk for Kurt, but then I remembered, I don't know how to," he explained and suddenly his mother was pushing him aside and warming the milk for him. She put a spoonful of honey in the mug and smiled at her grown son.

"I'm proud of you for being strong in this, Finn. I think Kurt appreciates it too, but he can't really look past his grief right now," she said, and Finn nodded.

"No, I get that. I just really wanna be there for him, you know? I'll go give him this. Maybe he'll talk," Finn said holding up the milk and headed for the door to the basement.

"Maybe. But Finn, honey, don't count on it, okay?" his mother called after him

"All right."

Kurt's room was dark beside from the vague light from the bedside lamp, which gave Finn a hard time seeing the steps he was walking down. He managed it to the floor of the basement without spilling a single drop, and he felt like throwing his fist in the air – victory!

"Finn? What are you doing down here?" Kurt asked softly, looking up from his pillow to the awkwardly tall teen standing in his room. Finn offered a shy smile, holding out the milk.

"I thought, I'd bring you this. You once got it for me, and I really liked that, so I made some for you. Well, actually my mom made it, but it was my idea, I swear," he said, placing the mug on Kurt's nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Wow, uh... thank you, Finn." Kurt sat up in his bed, so they were on eye level.

"You're welcome," Finn said with a smile. They sat like that for a little while, listening to Carole upstairs, where she was talking to someone.

"She on the phone?" Kurt asked looking towards the ceiling, where she was now pacing around upstairs. Finn shrugged.

"Don't know. It's sort of late," he mumbled and Kurt agreed by nodding his head.

"Thanks for the milk, Finn. Really but I... I know why you're doing this. We don't fool anyone. Before all of this we were... friendly, but not _friends_. I don't want you to establish a relationship with me, if you're just gonna ignore me, once I'm somehow okay again," Kurt said, shifting his gaze between Finn and the blanket covering his lower body.

"What? No, I wouldn't do that. I was kind of freaked out about our parents dating, but I thought we were friends. But Kurt we don't have a relationship – you know that, right? I'm straight – I told you."

"God, Finn, not that kind of relationship," Kurt said and was almost in tears judging on his voice. "You can have relations that aren't romantic or sexual. Being friends with someone is a relation," he explained, and Finn quickly caught up with him.

"Right. I knew that. Sorry," he sheepishly said.

"But this is what I'm talking about. You say, you want to be friends, but then you go and say stuff like that. It's true that I used to have a crush on you and that's why I brought Carole and my dad together in the first place, but it's not like that anymore, okay? I'm not into you."

"It came out wrong, okay? I didn't mean it like that. We're friends. I want to be your friend, Kurt," Finn told him. Kurt took a sip from his milk and then just stared at the blue eyed teen in front of him, trying to make out if Finn was being honest or not.

"_Who do you think you are!? No, let me tell _you_ something. We are doing absolutely fine on our own. You just stay away!_" Carole's voice was yelling upstairs and startled both boys. They exchanged confused looks before both getting out of the bed and up the stairs.

In the kitchen Carole was pacing around and around the kitchen island not stopping before Finn grabbed both of her shoulders and asked her, what was wrong.

"The phone was ringing," she told him and ran her hands through her short hair. "First I didn't know who it was. She introduced herself as Katherine," she said and then looked to Kurt.

"My _aunt_ Katherine?" he asked sounding confused. His aunt never called. Not even when... She just never called. His mom's sister was busy living her life as a big shot lawyer in Los Angeles. She'd only come to Ohio maybe once every other year for Christmas or thanksgiving, but then she'd only stay two or three days at the most, always eager to get back to her job and apartment in the big city.

"Yes, your aunt. She was angry, because she'd only found out about Burt today, and blamed me for not telling her," Carole continued.

"Mom that was never your job," Finn said.

"I know it wasn't. I told her that, but she still sounded offended. So she started asking questions about our living situation, which naturally would be in her interest, as she is Kurt's aunt and wants him to be taken care of. I told her of how we moved in here, about the garage and stuff, and she started asking other questions, about what she called 'Kurt's safety'," Carole told them.

"I'm sorry, you had to talk to her. Usually we ignore her calls," Kurt told the kitchen floor, still not used to saying 'I' instead of 'we' and that there was no 'usually' left in his life.

"No, no I didn't mind those questions, I only disliked the outcome. Apparently she was not pleased with any of the... solutions we've found and insisted, she'd do a much better job of taking care of you herself," Carole said, tears staining her voice. Suddenly Kurt's attention was caught. What?

"You don't mean she..." he trailed of, when Carole simply nodded.

"What? I don't follow," Finn asked a little desperately. "What does that even mean?"

"It means, Finn, that Kurt can't live with us. His aunt wants him with her," Carole explained, sounding absolutely exhausted. She couldn't deal with an angry relative at the moment. She was grieving – why didn't people get that?

"I'm not going to LA," Kurt said stubbornly. He just couldn't.

"She's not going to make you move to LA. She's talking about getting a place somewhere in Ohio. Maybe she'll even let you continue attending McKinley," Carole said.

"If she wants me in Ohio, then why can't I just stay here? Is it even legal for her to just demand custody?" Kurt asked, while pacing the kitchen floor the same way Carole had done it.

"I don't know why she won't let you stay here, but it's completely legal. She's your legal guardian, since Burt and I were not married," Carole told him.

"She can't be! She and my dad were not even close. Why would he give her custody? Why does she even want me? I'm..." Kurt was panicking. He wasn't sure why. It'd been a while since he'd felt anything other than alone and grief, but now he felt the crucial heat of anger run through his veins.

Carole sensed Kurt's mood and slowly made her way to put her arms around him, keeping him as close to her as she possibly could.

"I don't know, Kurt. We'll just have to see."

* * *

**February 13th**

**Blaine**

"I have a piece of something very blue. You see that anywhere?"

Blaine's mother had made a New Year's resolution of her own. She'd decided, she would spend more quality time with her son, whenever he was home. So when he came home the first weekend in the new year, she'd proudly presented, what she thought would be the ultimate mother-son activity. A puzzle. And a puzzle with 2500 pieces at that.

Blaine had felt like giving his mother a hug. He knew it wasn't easy for her to feel loyal in the house. His father was always irritated with him, but his mother kept standing up for Blaine when things went unfair – but that applied the other way around too. If she felt like Blaine was purposely trying to set off his father, she'd not be on his side.

"How about in the upper left corner? There's that poster. I've found a piece of the lamppost, try next to that," Blaine suggested, pointing towards the new puzzle of Times Square in New York they'd started after having finished the first one. This one was only 1000 pieces, and Blaine found himself thanking whoever planted the idea that he should pick out the next puzzle in his mother's head, since she'd had her eyes on the one with 5000 pieces.

"It fit!" his mother said with a wry smile at her son.

"Nice. I have a piece here with letters on it. They're white, and I think, it's says '-tion'," he explained, and they continued putting together their puzzle, piece by piece.

Eventually Blaine started humming. Ever since regionals, he'd had this song stuck in his head. It just refused to let go.

"_Oh, written in the stars, a million miles away_," Blaine sang softly, while trying to place a red puzzle piece. He was convinced it had to be from the 'Jersey Boys' poster, but it just didn't seem to fit anywhere. He didn't notice his mother stop to look at him as he continued to sing. "_A message to the main, ooh, seasons come and go, but I will never change – I'm on my way_."

"What song is that?" she asked him with a smile. He looked up from his struggle, a little surprised she'd even heard him, given how quietly he was singing.

"It's called 'Written in the stars'. We sang it at regionals, and it just hasn't left my mind since," he told her, finally seeing another red area, where his piece might fit.

"I'm still sorry I couldn't make it, Blaine," she said, returning to the puzzle herself.

"I know. It's okay, mom. I mean, you came at sectionals," he said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but I want to be there for you. Especially when you're singing lead," she told him with a smile and a wink. He couldn't help but smile too.

"I actually only sang lead on one song out of two."

"Was that the one you were just singing?" she asked, fitting another piece into a blank spot.

"No. The lyrics I was just singing were sung by me too, but the song's mainly a rap, and I just can't pull that off, so someone else did that part. No, my solo was fireflies by Owl City. I'm sure you know it – it's constantly on the radio." He picked up a green piece and held it to Elphaba's face to see, if the colors matched the poster from Wicked.

"Could you sing it for me?" she suggested, and Blaine couldn't help the grin that spread on his face.

"I don't have the Warblers with me – I don't even have music," he said.

"Oh come on, honey, please? For your old mom? Just a verse or two?" she urged.

"Fine!" he grinned. "_You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies, lit up the world, as I fell asleep_," he sang. "_Cause they'd fill the open air, and leave teardrops everywhere, you'd think me rude, __b__ut I would just stand and stare_."

"You are so talented, my sweet boy," his mom told him, placing her hands on his cheeks, kissing his forehead. "You'll get so far," she whispered before pulling him into a hug.

* * *

**June 4th**

**Kurt**

"I just can't believe this is good bye," Tina said through her tears. Quinn had an arm around her shoulders, but the small girl was still holding back sobs. It broke Kurt's heart to have caused such a reaction, but it also warmed it that his friends cared enough to cry for him. It made his inner diva glow with confidence.

"Now, it's not like I can't come visit you all. I'll only be a two hour drive away," Kurt said, but he was fighting back tears as well. They were all in the choir room on the last day of school. Around the school clubs were saying good bye for the summer, but for the glee club it was farewell to one of it's few original members. Kurt Hummel would not be at McKinley when school started back up in September. Instead he'd be making the drive to a town called Westerville the following day. His aunt had at first been fine with him attending McKinley, but then she'd found out about the bullying.

Katherine Hummel was not a lawyer for nothing. She made herself feel good by protecting and defending others, and her nephew would not be an exception. So instead she'd gone online and found a school in a nearby town that offered a safe environment and even a seemingly higher education standard. She'd then rented an apartment in said town and announced that he could move in on the fifth. She'd let him finish his sophomore year at his old school, but he was starting at Dalton Academy in the fall.

"Yeah, but how often will that be," Mercedes retorted, looking at her best friend with teary eyes.

"I don't know how often I'll visit at school, but I'll be in town at least once a week," he told them. He'd started seeing a psychologist in the end of may, whom he'd need to see once every second week and sometimes even more often. He was also in a grief group for teens that Carole had recommended at the hospital.

It had been clear that he'd needed help getting better at the end of March. His loss was sucking all joy out of his life. He wouldn't laugh, if Finn had pulled out two different socks in the morning. He'd never watch TV, since it just seemed to get him in an even crappier mood. He told Mercedes he was never really up for sleepovers and not even Rachel had any success in trying to convince him otherwise, though she was definitely the most persistent of his friends. Music was the only thing that seemed to bring him any kind of excitement or happiness. He wouldn't be pining for solos in glee club, but he had his iPod going at all times: in the car, in the bathroom, in bed, at breakfast, between classes, at the mall. He'd gotten better after he started going to his therapy sessions, but it was rare to see a smile on his face and no one had heard him laugh since March. He'd go to the mall with Mercedes, but would always wear his earphones while walking around the stands with clothes and albums. He'd actually talk to his friends, but at times he would zone out, excuse himself to go somewhere private and cry. It'd hit him out of the blue almost every day. He was without parents. His father was not around. He was alone just like he'd always feared.

"Mr. Schuester, may I say something?" Rachel asked, though it had been a while since someone had raised their hand, indicating they wanted the floor – they just spoke when there was an opening. But Rachel, being the perfect student she was, was determined to have her teacher's blessing before speaking. Mr. Schuester wagged his hand to tell her to just shoot. "Kurt, I want you to know that you are being freed of any obligations whatsoever towards this singing group. Last night I looked up Dalton Academy, and their very informative webpage told me, they have a glee club too – we've just never competed against them. They're called The Warblers and are an a cappella group. From the clips of them I found on different blogs and YouTube they are not bad. They're sort of flat on the higher notes and only seem to feature one voice during competition," Rachel said, not acknowledging the confused looks on her classmates faces, telling her that _they_ only featured one voice during competition too – her. "I just want you to know that you don't owe us anything, and that you can join the Warblers, if that's what you wish," she finished with a smile. Kurt was stunned.

"I'm _freed_?" he repeated.

"Yes. It wouldn't be fair of us to expect of you to not continue to find joy in music, just because you no longer will do it in our company," she told him, totally missing the look on Kurt's face, telling her to just _stop_.

"You know, you don't have a say in what I do, right?" he asked her, racing an eyebrow before sending her a true bitch glare.

"She's just giving you our blessing to do whatever at that Gargler school," Puck defended.

"Wanky," Santana mumbled with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow, linking her pinky with Brittany.

"I've always been free, thank you very much. Sure I feel loyal towards New Direction, but if I wanted to join another glee club, I'd do so with or without your permission, Rachel Berry." Mercedes had forgotten her tears and was currently more occupied suppressing her laughter.

"Surely you must feel more than_ loyal_ towards the club? I mean, we were the ones who _saved_ you, Kurt. When others were ignoring you or harassing you, the people in glee were there for you," she told him seriously. Kurt felt that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd long since identified as anger. Since his father passed his temper had gotten even worse. Now all it took was one of those totally obvious and annoying comments from Rachel, and he'd storm out of the room.

"That's always been your problem, hasn't it, Rachel? You're convinced this club is a union, when the truth is that we are no family. If we were, we would be a family where people spy, dump each other in the dumpsters, secretly hate each other and are scared of standing up for someone else, because of something as stupid as reputation," he said, quickly glancing towards Santana and Brittany.

"Now, Kurt, I don't think you're being fair here," Mr. Schuester said in a stern tone, indicating that this conversation was over.

"Just stating the obvious," Kurt half whispered, as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back into the red plastic chair.

"All right," the teacher said, moving towards the piano, pretending not to have heard Kurt's last words. "I really hope all of you will return next year – we _have_ a next year, guys! I am so proud of you. And Kurt I hope, you'll be happy in Westerville, whether you choose to start singing there or not. You're welcome to visit any time."

"Yeah," Kurt mumbled, without really listening, already fingering the strap of his bag.

"Thank you for an amazing year, everybody. Of course it was too bad, we didn't place at regionals, but I promise you – next year is going to be better. You are all so talented, and hopefully the judges won't have been leaked and Sue," he said with a chuckle. "And let's cross our fingers for not competing against Vocal Adrenaline again next year."

"Yeah, and let's not have any more baby drama, 'cause I'm not sure I'll be able to take any more knocked up hormone bombs – like ever. It makes me wanna kick heads off of things," Santana said with a glare at the back of Quinn's head.

"Not planning on getting pregnant, Santana, so cut it _out_," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Besides, it's Kurt's turn next time," Brittany said with a shrug and a unconcerned smile.

"Brittany, I can't get pregnant," Kurt muttered from his seat next to Mercedes, who yet again was holding back laughter. Brittany then looked to Santana for explanation.

"What?" she asked her friend, and Santana just padded her knee.

"All right, anyone who want's the floor for a last performance?" Mr. Schuester asked and seconds later Rachel was belting out 'My favorite things' from 'The sound of music' with as much cockiness as possible. After her Quinn got the floor performing a slowed down version of 'Unwritten' by Natasha Bedingfield. Both got a standing ovation. Then Mr. Schuester told them to enjoy their vacation and join again next year.

The whole room went around, wishing each other a nice summer and happily left the school until only Kurt and Mercedes were left alone in the choir room. She reached for his arm and together they too left the choir room behind, Kurt knowing he wouldn't be back.

* * *

**April 11th**

**Blaine**

"What have you got there?" Blaine's mother asked, as she entered the dining room, ruffling her son's hair, as she went to put her empty mug in the dishwasher. He quickly tried to get it back in place, relieved when he felt the hair gel was still taming his unruly curls.

"It's just homework," Blaine told her. She came back from the kitchen, looking over his shoulder to see the math assignment he was working on.

"Wow. They sure didn't make homework this fancy, when I was in high school," she said with a chuckle. "You need any help?"

"From you?" he laughed, and she batted his shoulder playfully.

"Come on, I used to get A's when I was your age," she said with a smile.

"Keyword being 'used to'," he teased. "Mom, you always made me check the receipt, and I haven't been grocery shopping with you for years, which means, when I was like 12 I was better at math than you."

"I used those receipts as training for you! Not because I'm bad at math," she defended, but they both knew he was right. No way would she be able to help him with his homework.

"I could use the help though. I'm so confused by this trigonometry," he sighed. His mom then went silent, and when he looked at her, she seemed to be deep in thought. "What are you thinking?"

"It's nothing," she said, but her voice was far less cheery.

"Just tell me."

"Fine. If you need help, your dad is upstairs reading," she said. Blaine's face fell too.

"I don't think that's a good idea," he mumbled to the table. She sighed and left him to his homework. Blaine got back in his seat, picked up a ruler and went back to drawing sketches of triangles. After a while he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. He automatically stiffened his back to look less sloppy. God, why did his father have that effect on him?

"Hey, Blaine," his father said with a smile, making the same trip as his mother, by going into the kitchen and then the dining room, while waiting for the water to start boiling in the pot.

"Hey, dad," Blaine said, not looking up from his assignment. There was some awkward silence, where Blaine was trying to concentrate on his homework, while his dad was staring at him from the door frame. He then cleared his throat.

"Your mom said you could use some help with math?" Blaine stiffened in his seat. Why had she actually gone and asked his father? He turned around in his seat, but his dad had returned to the kitchen to make his coffee.

"It's trigonometry. Which I'm really bad at," he said, when his father returned in the doorway with a mug in his hand. Blaine watched him come over to look at the assignment, like his mother had done, but his dad's posture told him it took him a lot to not jerk away from his son.

"How far are you?" To Blaine's surprise his father pulled out a chair and sat down. Not right next to him, but at the head of the table. Blaine pushed his assignment in the space between them pointing towards one of the questions. His father read the previous questions before looking at Blaine's answers. "Eh- you shouldn't have used sine here. It's practically begging for a cosine."

Blaine pulled the assignment towards himself and started erasing everything he'd written.

"No, no, no," his father objected and sounded almost humored, as he took the eraser from his son. "This part is correct. You just have to switch the formula. See? Actually I really like your phrasing of question four." Blaine looked into his father's eyes. When had he last complemented him? His father offered him a wry smile. "Your handwriting's gotten pretty good too," he said softly.

"Thank you," Blaine half whispered, as he looked at his father in chock.

"Okay, if you write the cosine formula, you can just type it into your calculator," his father said, taking a sip from his coffee, putting it down right next to Blaine's math book. Blaine did as told and earned himself a smile from his father, when he did it correctly. "Now which one should you use in question seven?"

"Tangent?" Blaine guessed with a shrug.

"Yes, but why should you use tangent?" They continued going through Blaine's homework, and slowly he forgot that it wasn't normal for his father to sit down and just talk to him. Even though it was prompted by his mother, he felt, his father had changed if just a little bit for the better. And though he was happy about a change like that, he couldn't help but wonder from where it originated.

They finished a little after Blaine's mom had started preparing dinner. Blaine thanked his father for his help and went to bag his things.

"You see, Blaine, you only have to work a little to get it right," his father said, leaving the table, looking satisfied, but Blaine's good mood disappeared as soon, as the words had left the man's lips.

* * *

**Songs used:**

_Written in the stars - Tinie Tempah_

_Fireflies - Owl City_

_My Favorite Things - The Sound of Music (Julie Andrews)_

_Unwritten - Natasha Bedingfield_

* * *

_last edited 07.01.13_


	3. Fifteen words

**A/N:** So I have no experience with fanfiction, and therefore I don't know what's normal regarding story alerts, favorites and reviews, but I am so happy for the ones I've gotten already! I'm not kidding when I say I smile at every Story Alert and Favorites and those few reviews – God, I feel like kissing your feet (?)!

So this chapter is... essential. Like it may come across as a filler, but it's really not. I'm a little nervous about people's reaction because I don't know how many of you are like 'Can't they just meet already', but please have patience. Oh and it has a major time jump so be aware of that and look for the dates.

The song for this chapter is called Fifteen words by Hey Ocean! and it's beautiful. For your own sake go listen to it :)

I realized that I never put a disclaimer to this, but can't we just all agree once and for all that I don't own anything Glee related? Now go enjoy the chapter.

* * *

_Chapter three: Fifteen words_

* * *

**June 5th**

**Kurt**

"Hi, Kurt," Katherine Hummel greeted him with a pained look on her face. It was an expression Kurt had gotten very familiar with. All adults would give him that face, when they found out he was an orphan. Was it some kind of admission requirement to become an adults?

His aunt was as tall as he was, had blonde hair and the same smile as he remembered being greeted with as a child. But though they'd been sisters his mother and aunt didn't share much resemblance besides from the smile. Kurt looked more like his mother than her sister ever did.

Kurt quickly looked her up and down, taking in her outfit. The black jeans she wore were a little too baggy for his taste. Her shoes he couldn't quite place, but they looked like a mix of crocs and office heels. She had on a stripy shirt in faint yellow and creamy white, and to complete her oh so ordinary housewife look, she had her hair in a ponytail. Her form was slim and she had curves in the right places, but the way she'd styled herself made her look like a square. Kurt cringed.

She pulled him into a hug, totally forgetting about the heavy back he was carrying, making it a very awkward embrace. She then ushered him inside, taking the bag from him.

"It's so good to see you," she smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Kurt was too angry with her to appreciate any kindness she might show him and jerked away a bit. He saw her as the woman to ruin his life even further. "How about I give you a tour of the place, and we'll go get the rest of your stuff afterwards?" she proposed, and he shrugged. The apartment she'd rented had a combined living room/kitchen, two bathrooms and three bedrooms. She explained to him that she'd use the smallest room as an office, and he'd get to choose from the remaining two, which should be his room. She showed him the kitchen, which was of a decent size, and he decided, he'd be spending a lot of his time behind that stove.

Kurt had expected the place to be flooded with moving boxes, since his aunt was only moving in the same day as he was. He knew she'd gotten her stuff moved from Los Angeles the week before, but he only saw a pile of about five boxes in the corner of the living room. Didn't she have more stuff?

She showed him the room she planned to be an office and then moved on to the two rooms that would be their bedrooms. Kurt had warmed up to her a bit. She was all sorts of kind to him, but he just couldn't shake the hatred of off him. She was still the one to drag him away from everything he found comfortable.

"All right, so this room has no view, but it's the biggest," she said as she opened the door. Kurt stepped inside and looked around. The walls were clad in standard white wallpaper, and she'd been right; the view of the window only showed the building opposite it. The room was however a decent size, and it had a pretty nice closet, though it wasn't as big as the one he had at ho... in his old room. He had to learn not to call the house in Lima his home anymore.

"Kurt," his aunt called to get his attention. She smiled at him and walked a little closer. "I know how much you love styling and fashion, and I know you don't exactly _want_ to be her. But I really want to show you, it will be okay to be in Westerville," she said softly before handing him a card of some sort. "So as a sort of moving in present, I give you unlimited use of this card to decorate whatever room you choose. I'll gladly help you paint and stuff, but what color and all that is totally your own choice."

Kurt held the card in his hand and more than anything, he felt like breaking it in half. She really thought, she could buy his accept and trust? He looked up at her, taking in her silly smile and kind eyes. That smile. He'd only been 11 when his mother died, but he remembered a smile that shone like his aunt's. Damn. He couldn't hate that smile. He decided on something in between hatred and love.

"Thank you," he said, tonelessly. Just because he decided not to hate her, didn't mean he would make her feel like she'd won.

"You're welcome," she said with a smile. They walked into the next room and Kurt was sold. If he should decorate any room in that apartment it just _had_ to be the one he'd just entered. There wasn't much difference from the other room, but what got Kurt hooked was one of the walls. It was the smallest of them all, but instead of being painted over, when the last owner moved, it had been kept the way it was. It was still white, but someone had used a black permanent marker and written all over the wall.

"Of course you can paint over that wall," his aunt said, but he silently shook his head. He dragged his eyes to the other wall, where two floor-to-ceiling windows showed him a beautiful view of the city. He could see as far as the park a good 10 minute drive from there.

"I'd like this room," he told his aunt, and she smiled.

"Then let's go get your stuff. I bought a mattress for you, and I hope you're okay sleeping on that, until you decide which bed you'd like. If not we'll have to put the couch up today," she said, and he told her a mattress on the floor would do for now.

Kurt had parked his car down in the little courtyard that belonged to the apartment building, and with combined effort they got all of his five cardboard boxes to the fourth floor. It was a relatively new building. His aunt had rented the top floor for them, and on his way up the stairs, Kurt gathered from the lack of names on the mailboxes that only two of the four apartments were rented. That left two rows of empty windows visible from the street.

"I think that's it. Now, what would you like for lunch?" his aunt asked as they put down the last of his luggage. "I think I saw a really nice Japanese place on my way here this morning. Let me go look them up," she said, and walked out of the room. Kurt was then alone in what would be his new room. Even though he'd been reluctant at first on the whole buy-whatever-you-want-for-your-room thing, he was already picturing things like wallpaper and fabrics. He'd have to get some samples as soon as possible.

He heard his aunt talking on the phone in the living room and sighed. This was where he'd live from now on. At least until he turned eighteen and could move to New York. Actually he hadn't thought of his New York dreams for a long time. Not since the end of May. Would Westerville change that? Could it really be that he was leaving not only his friends, but also some of his sorrow behind by leaving? No, that couldn't be it; he still felt like crying and screaming every time, he thought of his parents.

With a sigh Kurt started unpacking.

* * *

**May 24th**

**Blaine**

He was late. Not for something where you'd just say 'whatever – five minutes won't matter', but late for something of significance. Warblers practice. His whole life seemed to revolve around those three hours a week, where he'd get up and join his friends in an explosion of feelings.

"Hey, Blaine! Wait up!" someone called from behind him. He immediately stopped, though he knew he'd just be even later for practice. Damn, that was what his friends had made him promise not to do... He'd not do it next time.

Running towards him was a guy Blaine recognized from his psychology class. His name he'd temporally forgotten, but he clearly remembered those blue eyes and his brown curls. Blaine's first thought of him had been of how cute he looked in a Dalton tie.

"Hi," the guy said with a bright smile on his face. Blaine politely returned it. "My name's Andrew O'Brien – we're in Psychology together?"

"Yeah, I remember," Blaine assured him. He looked – well, not nervous, but out of his element.

"So, I've always really wanted to talk to you, and my friends told me to just go for it. Like with a band aid, you know. Anyway, they got me convinced to ask," Andrew said in such a hurry that Blaine had a difficult time following.

"Okay? What is it that you wanna ask me?" Blaine pressed, still smiling politely. He was really late.

"I-I wanted to see, if you'd be interested in meeting up for like coffee or something? I mean, like a date, if you'd want it to be. It'd be fine as just friends too, though," Andrew explained with a pleading look on his face. Blaine was taken back. He was gay?

"Wow. Uh- coffee? I mean, yeah, I'd be up for coffee," he replied, frowning. He let his eyes take in the boy in front of him. He was cute and from what he'd heard in their shared class, he wasn't unintelligent or rude. And to be completely honest, Blaine was flattered. He'd never had someone openly ask him out before. He was still getting used to Dalton being a safe environment for guys to date. The last time he'd tried walking with a boy on his side, had landed him in the ER on the night of a school dance.

"Is that a yes?" Andrew hoped.

"Yes," Blaine laughed, still a little thrown off. "When and where did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking later this week? I'll let you pick the place," was the reply he got. Blaine quickly got out an unused piece of paper from his bag, writing his number on it, before handing it to the waiting boy in front of him. "How about Thursday? We'll go after school," he suggested, before explaining how late he was for Warblers practice. Andrew gladly took his number and when Blaine turned around to run for the choir room, the last thing he saw, was Andrew smiling happily.

"See you Thursday," Andrew called after him, as Blaine raised an arm in good bye.

"There he is! You are more than fifteen minutes late, Warbler Anderson. You have a good excuse?" Wesley Montgomery required as soon as he stepped inside the choir room.

"My apologies, council, my last class ran late and then I was held up in the hall on my way here," Blaine explained, dropping his satchel by one of the uncomfortably hard couches spread out in the room. Everyone was already gathered and ready to begin – clearly they'd been waiting for him.

"Of course you got held up in the hall," Wes sighed, returning to the agenda of that day's meeting.

* * *

**June 8th**

**Kurt**

After carefully planning his trip online and driving around town, getting lost more than once, Kurt found himself comparing pillowcases. One was a grayish color decorated with little dots in black, the other one was black and had a cross in red on it, like it was a wrapped up gift. He held up a third pillowcase he hadn't considered, wondering if it would match better.

His problem was making a decision and not just on which cover his pillows should carry, but on everything about this new room. He'd first considered making it look like his old room at his old house, but had then completely eliminated the idea – he did not need another reminder of the life he once had. He'd then considered a more feminine yet still masculine style, like with draperies and a morocco inspired theme, but had then decided against it, since it was never his dream having to carry heavy rugs to the fourth floor.

With a sigh Kurt threw both pillowcases in the cart, gaining a little satisfaction by knowing his aunt would be missing another 25 dollars on her account. He was sure she could afford it, but it still made him feel like he had some power over her. Since he moved in, she'd only been home a couple of hours that afternoon and to sleep at night. Else she'd been busy at her new job and with getting things 'taken care of' as she phrased it. Kurt's decision about not hating her was slowly fading, and he'd adopted this killer look, showing how disappointed he was, whenever she was home.

Absentmindedly he wheeled further into the store. He'd had problems finding the place, but had been so grateful for such a well-equipped shop relatively close to the apartment. They had both furniture and knick-knack for him to decorate with. He'd soon after moving in discovered that his aunt had only brought what he would describe as absolute musts from her life in LA. He'd asked her where the rest of her stuff had gone, and she'd just looked at him funny and told him that what was in those five or so boxes was all she owned. Kurt then gained permission to decorate the rest of the apartment too.

"Can I help you?" an overly friendly voice asked from behind him. Kurt realized he'd been staring at the same chair for the last five minutes without moving. He turned around and was met by soft blue eyes covered by a pair of heavy glasses and a sweet smile. Had he not been in a decorating crises, he'd be tearing those glasses off her face. They ware practically fashion suicide.

"I- no, thank you. I'm just looking," he told her, pointing towards the chair.

"All right, call if there's anything I can help you with," she politely said and turned to leave. That's when Kurt saw her socks.

"Oh dear God," he breathed, but refrained from telling her of how her brown and yellow knee high socks were affecting not just her own look, but the whole store's visual image. Instead he gave up on doing any more shopping, grabbed a catalog and paid for the few items he'd managed to decide on. Only 57 dollars were drawn from the card.

* * *

**March 27th**

**Blaine**

Though Blaine wasn't really trying to _sneak _his way in, he wasn't exactly holding his head high either. He carefully closed the terrace door, making it all the way to the stairs before his dad appeared out of nowhere.

"Hey, Blaine. Where have you been?" he asked with a smile. His question was simply curious and not demanding at all, but Blaine got thrown off and forgot all of his plans to lie about his date with Andrew.

"Out for coffee with a friend from Dalton," he told him, nervously crossing his ankles and rubbing off his sweaty palms in his pants. He was still wearing the uniform required for students at Dalton, but couldn't really care, as he saw the look on his father's face. It was a rummaging look. He wanted to know if Blaine's nervous appearance indicated this 'friend' was more than just that.

"Montgomery's kid?" his father wanted to know. Blaine let out a pausing sound before denying.

"No, not Wes." His father took a sip from the coffee cup he was holding.

"Who then?" Now his question was demanding. Demanding Blaine tell him the truth instead of trying to get out of it.

"A-a guy I have a class with, A-Andrew O'Brien," Blaine stuttered, cursing himself for acting like a frightened toddler. His father's brows furrowed, he was clearly trying to come up with an O'Brien of money. Blaine hadn't asked, but he never got the impression that Andrew's parents were anyone special. Could he make up some lie? No, the way his father was staring at him, he would know if he tried to tell anything but the entire truth.

"Were you studying?"

"Um – no. We just had coffee," Blaine told the stairs. He really just wanted to go take a shower and never talk about this with his father ever again.

"On what occasion?" Blaine was practically squirming.

"H-he asked me, if I wanted to have coffee with him earlier this week." It was now clear to his father what kind of coffee his son had had with this O'Brien kid – and what he thought about it.

"It's late. Your mom's in the kitchen. Make sure to wash your hands before we eat," he said before disappearing into his office. Blaine felt like crying or maybe screaming. He'd had a good time with Andrew. He hadn't felt that instant connection they always talk about in books and movies, but he'd felt... good for a change. He knew, he and Andrew would never be something big, but he'd like to see him again – if not for a date, then just as friends. They had a lot in common and he was easy to talk to. But no matter how good someone made him feel, his father would always be there to make him miserable again.

Blaine decided to take his shower before dinner, since he almost felt dirty after that brief chat with the man that called him his son. After having dried his curls, he helped his mother in the kitchen, preparing a salad, consisting of only lettuce, tomatoes and cucumber – really, would it kill her to serve something more than water based vegetables?

He then lay the table, putting extra effort into decorating it with colorful napkins and candles, because as his mother put it: "We're allowed to get a bit fancy". Only when his mother knocked on the door to his father's office and told him dinner was on the table, did he join his family in the obliged happy time of 'just the three of them'. Normally Blaine wouldn't even be home on a Thursday, but he'd been exempted from school the following day, because of an appointment his mom was dragging him to with an ophthalmologist. She was convinced he needed glasses, though he kept saying he was fine.

"Can I have the pasta, please?" his mother happily cheeped, thanking her husband, as he got it for her. "I hope you'll like it."

Blaine put a forkful on his tongue. They were having spaghetti bolognese, but it was always fun to see how his mother could absolutely kill any recipe. Blaine had had better at his _boarding school_. He remembered one of his first visits at David's house where they'd had this exact dish, and he'd nearly spit the first forkful back onto his plate, because it was just _so spicy._ He later learned that it was not David's family making strong tasting food – it was just his mother who refused to even add salt to spaghetti in fear of ruining it.

"It's great, mom," Blaine complemented her, making her smile.

"Yeah, just as always, my dear." Blaine was surprised by his father's cheerful tone. Was he not suppose to be mad? Maybe he was just keeping his wife out of it.

"Thank you." They ate a bit with his parents talking about work and something about hiring a lawyer to take care of an unreasonable hospital bill they'd been sent, when Blaine's grandmother got in the hospital. She'd had a minor surgery and had luckily survived both the procedure and not being able to smoke for four days while admitted, but the bill his parents had been presented with had been downright insolent.

"I'll look into it later this week," Blaine's father decided and thereby closed the conversation.

"Do that," his mother agreed, eating another forkful of air. "How was your day, sweetie?" she asked Blaine with a smile. He finished chewing before speaking – some manners they _had_ taught him.

"It was fine," he replied. He knew, if he wanted to tell his mom of Andrew, she would be more than delighted, but he saw how his father had stiffened in his seat at the mention of Blaine. No way was he voluntary bringing that up again.

"Just fine? Well, that sounds exciting," she said in a humored voice. "Anything you want to tell us about?" Blaine knew it was an innocent question, but he couldn't help but feel put on the spot.

"We got our English papers back today," he offered with a shrug. "I had this bad feeling about it – you know, how sometimes you just _know_ something is missing? Turns out my teacher felt the same. I just feel so annoyed knowing I could have done better. I got a decent grade for it though."

"What did you get?" his father asked in an unimpressed voice.

"Life is more than report cards," his mother mumbled, but was overheard.

"I got a B minus," Blaine told his father, almost gaining the strength to meet his gaze. And instead of acting like a _dad _telling his son "That happens even for the best of us" or "You'll do better on the next one – I can help you if you'd like", his father just returned to eating his dinner with a frown and an utterly exhausted look on his face.

"A B minus is not just a 'decent grade', honey. You can be proud of that," his mother told him, and he sent her a thankful smile. _That_ was what he needed; a normal parent. Someone to tell him he did good. Someone who would give him a boost of confidence even if he didn't always deserve it. "What else did you do today?" she wondered. Suddenly the table was flooded in red wine. Blaine looked up to see his father sending a apologetic smile towards his mother, who was frantically dabbing the place were the wine had hit the tablecloth. "Oh no," she all but cried.

"I am so sorry. Let me go get a towel," his father said before leaving the table.

"Get something stain removing too," she called after him. As she was desperately rubbing the stain, cursing over how impossible it would be to get off, Blaine couldn't help but wonder if his father had knocked over his wineglass on purpose.

* * *

**June 10th**

**Kurt**

After almost a week of living with his aunt, Kurt found himself kneeling before The Wall in his room just as he'd done nearly every day for the five days he'd been living there. He'd divided his room in three parts. There was still no furniture aside from a chair he'd temporarily borrowed from the kitchen.

The mattress his aunt had gotten him made up one part of the room; his sleeping space. He'd put the chair there too as a kind of bedside table. He'd decided, as long as he still only had a mattress to sleep on, he'd put it in front of window, to be able to enjoy the view both when he woke up and went to bed. Another part of the room was his dressing area. He'd been able to empty two of his boxes in the closet before it was absolutely filled, so he'd had to leave the rest of his clothes packed up. The last part of the room revolved around The Wall. The night of his arrival, he'd kneeled down in front of it to read some of the inscriptions. He'd found most of them to be lyrics and poetic quotes. Up against the wall he'd left the box filled with his music and book collection in it. There was pictures in there too, old gifts from friends and family and quite a few posters too. He'd never been one for having posters on the wall, but he was seconds away from throwing them all up there to just have done _something_ with his new room. Kurt Hummel had never before found himself stuck on decorating – keyword being 'before'. He was absolutely stuck. None of his ideas did it for him. Either they were too much, too little, not him or just... wrong. He'd worked himself through dozens of catalogs already, but nothing really caught his eye.

The only thing he knew for sure about was The Wall. He would not be painting it over, but one thought had not been willing to leave his thoughts. Could he add his own quotes?

That was what brought him to sit by The Wall on a dull Thursday evening, where he'd once again been left alone in the apartment, with a permanent marker in his hand. Hesitantly he turned it around in his hand before lifting it to rest at the white wall. It wasn't as easy writing on the wallpaper as he'd first thought, but with a bit of trying he was able to write what he wanted.

With a satisfied look on his face he got up and continued his evening with a moisturizing routine specially made for times where he'd have nothing else to do. He felt better knowing his words were up there on the wall, and as he added cremes and cleansing liquids to his face, the words 'Life is fraughtless, when you're thoughtless' shining down at him in thick ink.

* * *

**September 3th**

**Kurt**

"So you're attending Dalton in a couple of days. How do you feel?" Kurt's psychologist, Dr. Pacer, asked him at their last session before Kurt's first day of school as a junior. Dr. Pacer was a sweet woman with black hair and a slightly crooked nose. Her eyes were big and innocent and sometimes made Kurt feel like he was spoiling a child. She just seemed like such a newbie, though the many diplomas decorating her office walls were saying otherwise.

It was a nice office though. Kurt had at first been afraid to see a collision of black and leather, but to his surprise and delight, Dr. Pacer had had someone professional design her colorful office. The windows were decorated with small window stickers of stars in colors of gold and silver. Her desk was metallic and had an almost blue shine to it. The walls were painted a soft green, and Kurt had read enough about interior design to know that green was a soothing color. Did Dr. Pacer have stressed clients? Maybe even violent ones? The woman in front of him didn't seem like someone who could stand up for herself, if someone decided to attack her.

"I'm fine," Kurt told her, but without smiling. She moved a little on the chair, not pressuring him into saying anything. A couple of minutes went by in absolute silence before Kurt felt he just _had_ to break it. "I mean, it's not like I'm looking forward to it."

"Why not?" she questioned. He sighed.

"Because I just want to go back," he said with a shrug. "Westerville isn't home to me. I've been to the apartment maybe a total of ten times over the summer," he explained, crossing his legs as he'd seen people do when interviewed. Though he'd seen Dr. Pacer since March, he still didn't feel comfortable telling her stuff his parents should be hearing. He knew that if she found something suspicious, she had every right to tell his aunt. Kurt knew he was seen as a fragile creature to not push, not question without thought and not trigger. He really was surprised that his aunt had wanted a kid as damaged as him. He was on two kinds of anti depressive medication – one scientific and the other one herbal – and everyone was always preaching about how delicate he should be treated. Even his friends had been told to take it easy around him. He was partially forbidden to hear upsetting gossip and Mercedes had a really hard time filtering what was upsetting and what wasn't, so mostly she just kept her mouth shut.

"So when not in Westerville at your apartment, where were you?" she asked him.

"At my friend Mercedes' house. And at my old house," he said, before he went quiet.

"What were you doing at your old house?" She got out her pad, ready to take notes.

"I- I emptied the house with help from my father's girlfriend and her son," he told her, scratching his nose to hide his trembling bottom lip. Dr. Pacer didn't miss it though and made another note.

"Now, what was that like?" she slowly asked. He took in a shaky breath.

"Dreadful," he told her, not trusting his voice to speak anymore than that. He was remembering the boxes filled with his dad's belongings in the hallway and Carole with her marker, walking around, labeling the boxes with only three words – 'Kurt', 'Charity' and 'Storage'. When she wrote storage in her neat handwriting Kurt felt his heart drop. Three boxes and a couple of furniture was going with him to Westerville, but a lot of his family's things were packed up and ready to go to one of those self storage places, where they'd be until someone needed them. Kurt had not wanted much from the home, and though he had assured Carole that she could take what she wanted, she hadn't felt like getting anything other than a picture of the two of them and a single t-shirt.

"What part of it?" Dr. Pacer pushed. Kurt closed his eyes, mentally curling up in the chair, though he sat just as stiff as he had for what felt like hours.

"Ehm... It was all very - intense." He tried finding the right word, but intense was all that really came to mind. The three of them had barely spoken as they packed, but somehow Kurt just knew that this was it for Carole Hudson. She wouldn't try love again. He'd gotten the story of how a lawn painter had stolen her heart and made promises to her just to take off with some blonde chick and leave her alone with Finn and a dried out lawn. Add her husband, Christopher, who had died in war and Burt who she no longer had either, Kurt wasn't surprised that Carole got next to no sleep and was constantly sad. Each lover had cut their own scars in her skin. Scars too deep to ever really heal.

"Can you try and explain?" she prompted in a soft voice.

"Like... It felt- I'm... It was-" He cut himself off with a deep sigh. Dr. Pacer wasn't going to pressure him, he knew, but he felt as if it was important to put words to his feelings. But his brain wouldn't let him. Kurt shook his head.

"No? All right," she said softly, scratching something off her pad. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," he assured, forcing a tired smile at her.

"I got you some books that I thought you could maybe take a look at," she said, pushing a stack of books towards him. Kurt put them in his satchel, but knew he would probably just skim through one of them the day before his next appointment with her.

"Thank you," he murmured.

"Is there anything you want to talk about before we part?" she offered, but Kurt shook his head. He didn't need a professional to talk to. He _had _needed her in the beginning, but it was becoming clear to him that someone who got paid to listen wasn't what he needed. _I want a parent_, he thought as he made his way out of Dr. Pacer's office and out on the streets of Lima. The problem was that a parent wasn't an option. But if he couldn't get the comforting touch of his mom and dad then what _did_ he need? Hopefully the answer would show itself soon, because Kurt wasn't sure how much longer he could stand not knowing.

* * *

**The phrase Kurt writes on the wall is from the song 'Dancing through life' from Wicked**


	4. I'm still here

**A/N: ** I hope you're enjoying how fast these updates are coming out, because soon I won't have any more in store, and have to write in between updates. But there are still a couple to go though! Unfortunately I'm without internet for the weekend, so perhaps an update late Sunday, but else it will be up on Monday.

Now, this chapter is both happy in some ways, but definitely sad/heartbreaking too. _I'm_ very fond of it, but I would love to hear what you guys think about it – good and bad so please review (and to those who have - thank you from the bottom of my heart!). I've got to admit some parts of this chapter are a bit cliche, but I promise I won't do this story the predictable way.

The song of this chapter is called 'I'm still here' by the awesome Cady Groves.

**Chapter song: I'm still here – Cady Groves**

**Chapter four: I'm still here**

* * *

**September 7. **

**Kurt**

Through the summer Kurt had driven by The Dalton Academy a couple of times, just to get a feel of the place, but as he stood before the doors on his first day at the school, he realized not a thousand visits would prepare him for the energy that was Dalton. Kurt was used to judging people on their choice of clothing, but everywhere around him guys in white shirts, blue blazers and horrible gray pants with no shape whatsoever were walking around, talking, laughing and meeting up with friends. His aunt had said it would be easier transferring in the beginning of the year, but as he looked around him, it was clear that these boys all knew each other. No one was sitting alone in a corner feeling shy. Boys were hugging, pushing each other and some were even dancing, indicating they were all friends. Or at least that's what Kurt hoped for. He would _not_ be comfortable if they chose to be so psychical with him.

The main building of Dalton alone was twice as big as the one at McKinley. And way older. While his old school had worn signs of being a very neutral public school with the money spend inside instead of outside the walls, Dalton was quite the opposite. Three massive, white buildings surrounded a courtyard filled with small decoration stones. The black roof shined in the morning sun. Kurt started counting the windows, but when he got past 24 alone on the first floor, he stopped.

A loud bell cut off his worries and forced him to look at the papers that was given to him that morning at the office. People started walking pass him, but no one seemed to pay any attention to the obviously new kid fumbling. He was practically pressed up the wall with the way they just pushed people standing aside to get through. A particularly hard push to his shoulder made him loose hold of his schedule, which flew to the ground.

"Damn it," he cursed, trying to get it in between all the feet that continued to walk right pass him. Suddenly a pair of feet stopped and bend down to retrieve his paper. When Kurt looked up to see who'd taken his only hope of surviving in this place, he was met by warm hazel eyes and a friendly smile. Kurt quickly got to his feet, and when the last student in the stream walked by him, he took a step towards the guy, who'd picked up his paper.

"Is this yours?" a deep, however melodic voice asked him. Kurt took in the teen standing before him: His hair was dark brown, yeah almost black and was heavily gelled down with a parting to the left; his shoulders were broad for how small he was, because yes he was smaller than Kurt, but his form was really compact as opposed to Kurt, who'd always been tall and lean. But what caught Kurt's eye the most was the boy's face. His eyes were warm and almost curious as they took in Kurt's appearance, and his smile was friendly, but also a bit confused. Kurt nodded and took the paper from the teen.

"Yes, thank you. Don't know how I would make it a single second without that one. This place is like a maze," he joked, feeling heat go to his ears – the guy was cute! He chuckled as a respond to Kurt's joke.

"That's how I felt on my first day. You're new, right?"

"Guilty," Kurt confirmed, pulling his satchel further onto his shoulder

"I'm Blaine. Blaine Anderson," the teen told him, holding out a hand for him to take. Kurt did so and felt a gentle, warm hand surround his own. He really wanted to keep their hands entwined, but he was _not_ going to scare away the first friendly face he'd seen all day, who wasn't a 50 year old secretary, showing him a map over campus.

"Kurt. Kurt Hummel," he responded, withdrawing his hand before it got awkward. Blaine looked at the space in between them were their hands had been, before meeting Kurt's eyes again.

"Kurt. After the musical?" he mused and Kurt cracked a small smile. He hadn't really smiled all week, but after one minute with this Blaine... They started walking on Blaine's approach in the same direction the other boys had been headed, but Kurt knew he was making Blaine late for whatever they were suppose to be at.

"You've seen The Sound Of Music?" Kurt then asked rather than respond to Blaine's question. He was not comfortable discussing anything involving his parents – not even their decision on what name he should live with.

"All three hours of it," Blaine confirmed with a smile. "I would never miss anything starring Julie Andrews." Kurt's gaydar was making beeping noises, but he shoved it to the back of his mind, choosing to ignore it. He really didn't want someone to crush on.

"Does that mean you've seen both of the Princess Diaries movies too?" Kurt teased softly, not even making eye contact.

"It does. Introduced me to another great actor of our generation," Blaine said.

"Please say Anne Hathaway," Kurt begged, making Blaine laugh.

"I _was _gonna say ms. Hathaway, but now you're making me curious. Who else in that movie could I have been referring to?" Kurt looked at him as if was crazy.

"How does one forget about Chris Pine? Now, he was not very good in that movie, but he's done other things to deserve someone's acknowledgment," Kurt said as they turned a corner. Blaine said something, Kurt didn't pay attention to, since he was more focused on that they were still so far behind, he couldn't spot another student anywhere. "Aren't I making you terribly late?"

"Not terribly," Blaine assured him. "What's your first class?" Kurt made to check on his paper, but suddenly Blaine's hand was resting over his and the boy himself was leaning in to read over Kurt's shoulder. Kurt's breath hitched, but just as quickly as Blaine had come close, he was gone again. "You're a junior?" he suddenly asked with a surprised look on his face.

"Well, yeah. You're not?"

"I'm a sophomore," Blaine told him, but then smiled. "It doesn't matter though. I'll help-" but then Blaine was abruptly interrupted by someone calling his name in a disapproving voice. Kurt almost jumped as he watched a tall black guy walking towards them. "David?" Blaine sounded just as surprised as Kurt felt, but he didn't sound afraid.

"You are late. And on the first day back at that," the guy, David, sighed, grabbing for Blaine's wrist. "Now come on before you get me in trouble too – and this guy."

"That was just what I was trying to avoid!" Blaine defended pointing towards Kurt, who'd stepped away from the two. They weren't angry at each other... it was more like if they'd had this discussion a million times. "He's new and don't know where to go."

"God dammit, Blaine," David breathed. "This _always_ happens. I'm sorry, okay," he said in a friendlier tone to Kurt, who instantly looked down. "We have to go to class."

"But I promised-" Blaine tried, but David was already dragging him down the hall.

"I'm sure you did, but you just have to _let it be_, Blaine," Kurt heard David say, as they turned a corner. He was left alone in the hall with no idea where to go.

Eventually a nice teacher on her way to the teacher's lounge pointed him in the direction of his math class and told him to just ask anyone if he needed anything. He was assured that people were nice and especially towards new people. He found his class, got introduced and took a seat in the second row, as the teacher went over the things they'd be going through that semester. Kurt found that the class was a bit further ahead compared to McKinley, but accepted the challenge.

"Hey," a blonde guy said, as the bell rang for a short break between classes. The boy was about same height as Kurt, but with a much more compact body structure. His hair was light, almost white, and of course he was wearing the Dalton uniform. He was smiling friendly at Kurt, holding out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Mike."

"Kurt," he responded and shook the guy's hand. He was cute, but after the skirmish he'd watched between two he'd just met, he'd kept back a little. He was not there to have a romantic relationship, and he had friends at McKinley, whom he'd stayed in touch with over the summer. He wasn't desperate.

"Yeah, I kind of got that from the introduction the teacher gave," Mike said with a smile. Kurt felt embarrassed, but Mike quickly assured him by body language not to be. "I know what it's like to be new and everybody knows each other beforehand. It sucks." Kurt could agree to that. "Would you like help finding your next class?" He agreed to that too.

He spend the break with Mike in the hall of his next class, and Kurt learned how weird it can be talking to a stranger. You're never allowed to pause. Conversation must be kept up at all times or else it just gets awkward, but he really appreciated that someone had been kind enough to make his first day at least a little bit bearable. After his double English class he had another break, but this time no one was around to spend it with him. Instead he made sure he had enough time before he went outdoors, found a bench and started flipping through one of his many catalogs from shops selling furniture and other things for interior design. People let him be, not caring about the new kid reading by himself.

At lunch he sat by himself too, slowly going over a collection of color samples he'd picked up at the local paint store. He didn't mind though. It was easier not having to deal with people asking why he never laughed and why he kept to himself. He knew the saying of 'Smile to the world and the world smiles back', but he really didn't feel like smiling.

He was aware that people were looking at him. It wasn't necessarily rude or even judging, more like they were confused on why he would choose to sit by himself, not even making an effort on making friends. It probably wasn't helping that it was color samples he was going over either. Had he been reading a book, he could probably have passed as an overly eager student or some super cultural kid, but he had never been able to finish fiction other than books already made into either movies or musicals. Plus he really needed to get going with his room. He'd been stuck on what to do with it all summer. He'd not even managed to pick out a bed, so he was still sleeping on a madras in his practically empty bedroom. He was still to choose a color for the walls too. The only things he'd really done was pick out lamps, put up a shade and gotten an extra dresser for all of the clothes that wouldn't fit inside his closet. He felt like an absolute decorating failure.

"What are you looking at?" a friendly, however unknown voice asked him, and Kurt turned his head to see a dark haired guy with bangs sit down beside him at the lunch table he had all to himself. He then looked to his color samples, toying with one of the red pieces.

"Samples," he answered shortly.

"Cool," the guy told him before holding out a hand for Kurt to shake. "I'm Nick Duval."

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt responded and took the hand. He was a little tired of meeting new people, Nick being the tenth guy to approach him that day. Had he not been _forced_ to go to Dalton and leave his friends, he probably would have been euphoric since the guys had all been pretty cute, the guy before him being no exception. Was an all boys school really all it took for puberty to perform magic? He hadn't met an unattractive face in the four hours he'd been at the school.

"Can I ask, why you're looking at samples in your lunch break?" Nick asked, voiced showing he was humored. Kurt could see how it could be normal for the guy to wonder, but he really didn't like the intrusive question.

"You can. I'm trying to make up my mind about how to paint the walls in my room," he explained without looking at him.

"All right," Nick said, and an uncomfortable silence spread between the two. "If you want to, you can come sit with me and my friends," he offered after a while, but Kurt just bit his lip, still not meeting the other's gaze.

"Thank you, but I'd rather just..." he said, motioning towards his samples and fishing out a catalog, he hadn't gone through yet.

"That's okay. But don't hesitate to come over, if you change your mind," Nick told him with a smile, which Kurt really tried to return. People really were nice, but he found it so hard to appreciate it. Was it that obvious that he was broken? The old Kurt would have ruled this place, gone out of his way to make friends and be thrilled about the lack of prejudice. However the Kurt, who was flipping through pages filled with wall clocks, was not the same. Not anymore. Too much had been changed to let him fully enjoy the feeling of being wanted.

* * *

**September 7.**

**Blaine**

Blaine didn't see the new kid,Kurt, any more that day. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, but he told himself it was the monster inside of him that always ached to please people. He'd just left him there in the hall as David dragged off with him. Sure he'd told David of how he couldn't just do that, and David had apologized, but Blaine still felt guilty towards the guy he'd met that morning. He'd been absolutely beautiful...

As he sat in his biology class he got to think about that. The beauty of the new junior to walk the halls of Dalton. At first Blaine had not even noticed it, just seen him as another face in the crowd, but then he'd noticed something as weird and yet normal as his ears. It hadn't been his enchanting eyes that lead him to the realization that the boy was probably the prettiest he'd ever seen. _No, because I'm not romantic. I fall for people's _ears, he thought angrily. But Kurt's ears had been... different. They were pointed – more pointed than anyone he'd ever seen. At the same time, he'd noticed how long his earlobes had been. Was that normal? Blaine discreetly brought his index finger and thumb around his own lobe. There was hardly anything to grab at. And Kurt had had much larger ears too. Blaine's were like freakishly small. He cringed at the realization.

"Osmosis is the diffusion through a semi-permeable membrane in water. As just explained in the first chapter of your book, a semi-permeable membrane is a half-transparent membrane," their teacher explained, and Blaine found that he already missed his summer break. First day back and they didn't waste a second, filling the students brains with useless knowledge about plants in salty water. He'd much rather dwell on the new kid.

Blaine didn't see himself as shallow, but he couldn't help but think that with such a beautiful face, Kurt had to have a mind and a heart to go with it. He hadn't missed the way he had caught Blaine's musical reference, and hoped that meant, Kurt was interested in culture. Blaine kind of missed that at Dalton. Sure, he was in the Warblers where singing was the main activity, and they'd be able to express themselves through dance too, but he really missed someone who appreciated _the art_ of singing and dancing. Maybe Kurt could provide that? That was if his friends would even let them be around each other. He'd been pissed, when David had dragged off with him, leaving Kurt behind without a clue on where to go. Blaine knew, his friends were just looking out for him, but in his opinion they were taking it too far on the whole learn-to-say-no thing. They'd been stopping him from helping people all summer. Blaine could handle not being able to help Mrs. Thompson with her cross word every Sunday afternoon, but when they'd held him back from picking up a woman's groceries, when she fell on the street, he'd been grumpy too. Surely he should be allowed to help people, when they were hurt, but _nooo. _Not according to officer Jeff Sterling. He was so sick of being stopped in what he considered merely kind gestures.

When the bell rang, he gathered his things and after a few good byes and a laugh shared with a classmate, he headed for the parking lot, where he met up with Jeff. They'd be driving home together in Blaine's car. Both really looked forward to the weekend, where they'd be moving into the dorms again. Especially Blaine had had a rough summer, constantly colliding with his father on what seemed like _every _little matter. His mom had constantly been caught in the middle, forced to either support her husband or her son, and Blaine could practically feel how desperate she was for him to move back on campus – she'd even offered packing up his things for him, and if it wasn't for items spread around his room that he didn't want his mother to know of, he would have accepted.

"You're moving back this weekend, right?" he asked Jeff, as they made it down the streets of Westerville. He'd lived there his whole life and so had Jeff, but as they drove through the residential areas of their town, both boys found themselves admiring their surroundings. It was still warm out and people were getting home from work, while kids were playing in the gardens. Blaine saw a particularly happy girl on a swing. He only saw her, as she flew higher than the hedge enclosing the garden. She was laughing, having a blast as someone was pushing her. Blaine remembered the feeling of being pushed on a swing. He'd often been to the park with his dad, when he was little.

Those times were long forgotten.

"Yeah. I would move in tomorrow if I could, though," Jeff told him.

"That bad?" Blaine asked, not expecting Jeff to be just as sick of living at home, as he was.

"Worse. My mom's got another bun in the oven. I'm telling you, she just pops them out these days," Jeff sighed. Blaine knew, Jeff had five siblings already, and not one day with Jeff being home, did he not complain about how awful they were. Jeff's parents had split, when he was ten, and while his father had become a workaholic, his mother had found a new man, with whom she'd had four kids in six years. And now apparently a fifth was on the way. Blaine felt for Jeff, he really did. He himself only had an older brother, but he was convinced Cooper was the worst older brother since Cain. Luckily he'd moved, pursuing his dreams of Hollywood as soon as possible, leaving Blaine to their parents.

"That sucks," Blaine offered, and Jeff just nodded. It really did.

Blaine drove up to Jeff's house and the two bid farewell, before Blaine drove further down the street to his own house. As he stood outside the house, he couldn't help but wonder, if things would have been different if his brother still lived at home. It had only been after he'd moved that their father had decided to make it nearly impossible for Blaine to relax in his own home.

Through the kitchen window he could see his mother doing the dishes. She got off work early on Tuesdays, and she was probably waiting for him to go in and tell her about his day.

Blaine put on the glasses he only wore to please her and headed inside.

"Hey, Honey," she called, as he entered. The term of endearment made him feel both irritated but also a little safer. At least she wasn't going to throw him out just to get rid of 'the problem' once and for all.

"Hi," he called back, pushing off his black Dalton-shoes. They really did look like something his grandfather would wear – shiny, black patent leather shoes... On the weekends he'd wear his blue sailor shoes, which were still the old-man style but with a more modern look – at least that had been what the salesman had said.

"You hungry?" she asked, walking to stand in the door frame.

"I'll get something later. Thought I'd start packing up my things." And that he did. Actually when he stopped two and a half hour later, he was all set to go beside having not packed his toothbrush. He lay down on his bed with a sigh and a smile. He was leaving, and he honestly couldn't wait. Only three days to go.

* * *

**September 10.**

**Kurt**

When Kurt had left his life behind in Lima to go live with his aunt in Westerville, he'd not been pleased, but he'd seen (however never voiced) perks of leaving: He escaped Karofsky's intense bullying, he got away from Finn, whom he still had a faint crush on, but could absolutely not be with for more than one reason, and he gained a more serious educational environment. What he hadn't expected was to feel so damn alone all the time! His aunt was just never around. It had been bearable through the summer, since he'd spend most of his time in Lima at Mercedes house and helping Carole clear out his old home, but as school started he expected her to be home more. She'd come home sometime around eleven and then leave again at twelve the following day. Eight of those thirteen hours were spend sleeping, and the remaining five hours she ate or read in her office. Kurt hadn't seen her since he started at Dalton three days ago. It pissed him off that she obviously cared so little for something she'd taken responsibility for. He felt like he'd been a flower standing on someone's path, had been mercilessly pulled from the ground and put down on a kitchen counter instead of in a vase with water. Sure he'd been a flower with a limp corolla, but that didn't mean he needed water any less than other flowers – quite the opposite really. Why didn't his aunt get that?

The anger he felt towards her ignorance was what brought him to stay up late on the couch with an assignment for his English class. Really it was quite simple – like a 'what I did this summer' to get them started on writing after a whole summer without it. When he heard the recognizable click of the lock, he pressed play on his iPod, having planned this moment in advance.

"Hi, Kurt," his aunt said, surprise evident in her voice. Kurt didn't respond, and she just assumed he couldn't hear her, but when she put down her bag by the dinner table, he quietly started singing.

"_There's been some confusing over rooming here at Shiz_." He didn't even look up, just kept his eyes on the paper in front of him. He hummed a bit, obviously not finding some of the lyrics suitable.

"Did you eat?" she asked, but again there was no answer.

"_There's been some confusion, cause you see my roommate is:__Unusually and exceedingly peculiar And altogether quite impossible to describe_," he sang, and she couldn't deny the kid had a great voice – a little high maybe, but the song sounded right in his mouth. "Blonde," he spoke, and with a look that could kill, stared her right in the eye. "_What is this feeling, so sudden and new? I felt the moment, I laid eyes on you. My pulse is rushing. My head is reeling. My face is blushing! What is this feeling?_" He kept eye contact as he continued singing, and his aunt was forced to just go with it. "_What is this feeling? Fervid as a flame, does it have a name? Yes!_" Kurt rose from the couch, sitting on his knees, nearly yelling the words out. Katherine backed up, feeling overwhelmed by her dramatic nephew. "_Loathing. Unadulterated loathing_"

"Geez, Kurt how old are you," she sighed, finally getting the point of the singing. She pulled off her coat and laid it on the table, but her nephew kept singing, even while she was talking.

"_For your face, your voice, your clothing. Let's just say - I loathe it all. Every little trait, however small, makes my very flesh begin to crawl. With simple utter loathing, there's a strange exhilaration, in such total detestation. It's so pure, so strong!_" he sang, but that was it for his aunt.

"Kurt, take out those headphones," she demanded.

"_Though I do admit it came on fast_," he continued, making his way off the couch, as she came over to rip the headphones from his ears. "_Still I believe it can last_."

"You realize how immature this is, right?" she called, but he just sang harder, louder.

"_And I will be loathing, loathing you, my whole life long!_"

"Stop it. You won't gain anything from that. Sit down and we'll talk," she told him, even went as far as to pull out a chair for him.

"_She's a terror! She's a Tartar! We don't mean to show a bias, but Galinda, you're a martyr!_" he sang. She grabbed his upper arm, dragging him to the chair, pulling out his earphones, as she went.

"Come on, you're being ridiculous. I get that you're mad at me, but act like an adult and tell me about it, instead of going all musical on me," she said, waving her hand at the iPod, lying on the table.

"_I'm_ being ridiculous?" he laughed humorlessly. She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Well, you didn't expect me to go ahead and praise you for a good performance, now did you? It's absolutely _stupid_ trying to tell people things through song, Kurt!" she shouted.

"But that's what people _do_ where I'm from!" he cried back.

"You're from Lima – not Broadway!"

"I'm not talking geographically! _You_ pulled me out of the one place where I've felt safe-" he tried, but was cut off be his aunt, who was down right laughing at him.

"Safe?! You felt safe at that public school? You were bullied – I saved you!" she argued.

"You saved me? That's what you think? I am _miserable_ here! You pulled me away from a place where I had friends, who'd be able to save me. I had someone take care of me!" he yelled, feeling tears run down his face. She was being absolutely foolish!

"I take care of you!" she claimed, and he saw that she too had tears pooling at her chin.

"_You're never here!_" he cried, before angrily standing up, knocking his chair over in the process. He was ready to storm out the room, but before he knew it, he was tackled towards the couch and had the air knocked out of him. "_What are you doing_!?" he screamed down a pillow.

"We are talking about this, and if this is the way for you to not walk away, we're doing it this way," she hissed, as she fought to keep him still on the couch. After a couple of hard blows from Kurt's side, he eventually gave up and kept still. "Good. Now, why are you mad at me?"

"I am mad that you made me move away from my friends and a person who was willing to take me in and who knew what I was going through," Kurt spat into the pillow. Above him his aunt nodded.

"Are you talking about the woman your father was seeing?" Her voice was suddenly much softer. Kurt nodded. "I knew Burt too, you know. And both my parents are dead."

"It's n-not the s-same," he sobbed. His aunt got off his back, picking him up in an embrace and pulled him towards her side, making comforting noises. "And you're _never _h-here."

"I'll work on that. I promise," she whispered into his hair, as he cried. The need to just be held by someone was bigger than the voice telling Kurt to just get away. He buried himself in her awful clothes, smelling her perfume and the smell he recognized as her, though it was strangely familiar to him.

"A-and I don't know w-w-what to do with m-my room." She made a soft shushing sound.

"We'll figure it out," she promised, taking his hand away from his lips, as he began chewing his nails off. "You're okay."

"I-I miss my friends," sobbed into her shoulder.

"I know. We'll get them to visit soon," she cooed, stroking his hair.

"I'm so alone," he whispered.

"No, Kurt, you're not. I know it feels that way, but you're not," she vowed, kissing his temple before cupping his cheek to strike away the tears. "I'll never let you be alone, okay?"

"Please," he whimpered and curled further into her. For the night he let himself believe she was his mom. If he concentrated hard enough, he could recall a smell his mother had brought into their home in Lima. It had fated as the years had passed, but as he smelled his aunts neck he found it after so many years without it. A loud sob escaped him, causing his aunt to hold him closer and kindly shush him.

"You're okay," she chanted long into the night, and even when Kurt fell asleep with his head on her shoulder, she kept it up. She was gonna make good on her promise.

* * *

**Song:**

**What is this feeling from Wicked**


	5. Behind blue eyes

**A/N:** As promised here is chapter five. I'm not sure how I feel about this one, but I might just be making stuff up in my head – that happens _a lot_. I would love to hear what you think about it though :)

The next week or two will be super busy for me, and I can't promise any updates. I won't go into details trying to explain the Danish school system, but I'm starting at a new school tomorrow, which means I'll be tired from meeting new people all week. I'm really nervous about it, so wish me luck :)

The song of this chapter is called Behind blue eyes by Limp Bizkit.

* * *

**Chapter five: Behind blue eyes**

**September 13.**

**Blaine**

"_God_, it's good to be back," Jeff yelled, as he entered the dining hall Monday morning, after having unpacked his stuff in his dorm first thing Friday afternoon along with his friends. They'd all been desperate to get back to Dalton, some because of their tense home life, others because they simply missed being around friends 24/7.

"Tell me about it," Jon groaned from his seat at their usual table. All the boys gathered around, as they enjoyed being able to eat breakfast together again. "My brother has been driving me crazy this summer."

"Oh, your one brother was hard on you? Try _three_ screaming brothers, a hormonal big sister coming home for the summer, because she was dumped for the eighth time and a fucking annoying little sister, asking if she can comb your hair," Jeff challenged, accompanied by an eye roll. Nick looked at his friend before ruffling his long bangs.

"You could comb that," he agreed, making Jeff groan even louder and the other boys laugh.

Blaine was in heaven. The friendly bickering and the tasteful cereal was what he'd been longing for all summer. He simply ate his breakfast, enjoying the way his friends were teasing each other, making each other laugh. He could fall asleep to the sound of them talking that's how nice it sounded. He happily put another spoonful of cereal in his mouth, savoring the sweet taste.

"Have you guys seen the freshmen this year? They all look so small, like, we weren't that small, were we?" David mused, as he took a bite of his bread soaked in jelly.

"It's always like that, David," Wes told him and the other agreed.

"You remember our freshman year?" Jon asked, making his friends laugh.

"You talk of it as if it was a million years ago and not just a summer for most of us," Nick laughed.

"I feel wiser, more experienced," Jon told them in a serious tone. He was often like that, and it wasn't always the group could figure out if he was serious or not.

"...More sober perhaps?" Jeff offered, earning himself a slap on the shoulder from Jon.

"I was not the one getting drunk last year," he defended, but all of his friends disagreed. They'd all taken turns pulling a smashed Jon from the bathroom floor of private parties all through the previous year of high school. "Fine, maybe I was, but that was _only_ because the sophomores were making us drink like crazy!" he justified.

"Yeah, we really should try and avoid doing that now that we're all sophomores, juniors and senior," David said and the others agreed. They'd all found out first hand how cruelly a sophomore could treat a freshman, if he felt like it. Because even though Dalton had a clear no bullying politic, sophomores teasing freshmen through the first month of school, was pretty standard to all schools and was looked past even at Dalton. Blaine had been walking to the parking lot a Friday afternoon, listening to music on his iPod, when two guys had come up to him, taken his shoes and thrown them in the fountain. Jeff had been absolutely grossed out when he opened his book in math, to find the first five pages or so glued together with mustard his freshman year two years ago. Nick had had PE and before going out on the field, he'd taken a sip of his water, which had been drugged with sleeping pills, making him collapse in the middle of a soccer game, fast asleep. Wes had been unable to open the door to his dorm room, and had to get the janitor to lend him a ladder, before climbing through the window on the second floor, finding that his lock had been sabotaged – that was three years before. David had caused the whole school to jump in their seats with a ear-splitting scream, when he'd been looking for a pencil in his backpack, finding a toad instead. And of course Jon had been dared to get himself out of control drunk at _every_ party they'd been invited to. Blaine often wondered why he was assigned title of being the push over in the group – Jon would do all sorts of crazy things people asked him to too.

"We could be like the super cool like guiders," Nick suggested only half joking.

"Yeah, we should totally do that," Jeff applauded with a smile.

"How do we do it?" Blaine asked, and suddenly the table went quiet. He didn't even notice, since he was more occupied with eating his cereal than watch the expression of his friends.

"Blaine, you can't be in it," Wes insisted, which made him look up.

"Whd?" he asked through a mouthful of breakfast. He couldn't be in it?

"Look, Blaine, we really meant it when we said you had to concentrate on you this year. Last year you went out of your way for everybody – even guys you didn't like you treated like royalty," David explained, putting a comforting hand on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine swallowed to speak.

"I thought you'd gotten that out of your heads as the summer ended. Why can't I help people?" he whined.

"Because you're not helping people, you are doing everything for them. You need to just concentrate on you," Nick told him in a kind voice, making Blaine feel even more like a child having been put to bed too early in it's own opinion.

"But being friendly and helping people with problems or homework, is what I do best!" he argued, but the group just all shook their heads at him. It was a lost cause, Blaine knew, but it annoyed him to no end that his friends felt they had enough power over him to just make him stop things. He didn't care if it was for the best – he wanted to be independent, and as he brought his tray to the clean up table at the exit, he came up with a way to be just that.

* * *

**September 22.**

**Kurt**

"Y_ou will not believe the things that are going on at this school_," Mercedes sighed down the phone. Kurt tried to stay updated as good as he could in during the week, since he refused to let his friends in Lima become strangers, but it was a little difficult with the limits his friends were put under. They had strict orders to not 'stress him too much' and 'not expect help from him'. But apparently what Mercedes had to tell him wouldn't fall into those categories.

As he had promised, he was in town for therapy sessions every second week, and he often combined them with a sleepover at Mercedes house, or a dinner with Carole and Finn, who were still sweet to think of him as almost-family. He liked to think that his father would have married Carole some day, had he made it, so it was important for Kurt to not loose touch with her and her son, whom distance had done a pretty good job at making him fall out of love for. And though he maybe wasn't the funniest guy to be around after two hours of digging through hurtful memories, he made it to both movie nights and sleepovers.

"Try me," he challenged, as he continued to care for his cuticles. He was alone in the apartment, but didn't really mind. Ever since their dramatic fight in the beginning of September, his aunt had been better to come home for more than sleep. She'd be home around six, which was a huge improvement, and then she'd leave earlier, while Kurt was in school anyway. One day he'd actually gotten home to find her behind the stove, mixing up a dough for the pies she was trying to make. He'd let her have her moment, but as soon as she looked away, he was adding stuff, getting things back into the fridge and before long, he'd taken over the entire thing. It ended up being some very interesting pies, though Kurt had really done his best to try and save them, but his best just wasn't enough to safe his aunt's cooking. Since then she'd never tried cooking for him, other than an occasional omelet and a stack of slightly burned pancakes.

"_Well, for starters Puck's in juvie_," she began, making Kurt snort.

"Really was just a matter of time," he commented.

"_It was. He stole his mom's car, drove it into a convenience store and took off with the ATM_," she said with a sigh.

"Who does that? It's not like it's the cool kind of crime – it's just cheesy, you know. Been there, done that. Well, I haven't, but I imagine every other moron on the street has." Mercedes laughed on the other end.

"_There are cool crimes_?" she asked.

"Of course there is. Like shoplifting for brands too expensive to pay for, but too amazing to live without. When people steal flowers for their loved ones. That kind of stuff," he told her, making her chuckle.

"_Damn, I never knew you liked bad boys_," she teased, making him huff.

"I don't, but some crimes are just more impressive than others. Besides I don't get to be picky," he told her without even thinking.

"_What's that suppose to mean?_" she demanded, voice more serious than before. He sighed.

"I mean, if someone was to take an interest in me, I can't afford to be picky. There are not that many gay guys in Ohio, Mercedes," he explained, feeling how the diva in her was about to make an appearance, even though he hadn't seen her in over a week.

"_You did not just say, what I thought you just said. 'Can't afford to be picky' – that's bullshit! You only deserve the best of the best, and if there's not a guy like that in Ohio, you move! You can't just settle for next best or even 'not bad'. You are a star, Kurt, and we all know it, so just quit complaining about not being able to find the right guy, because you just need to look harder_," she exploded, and Kurt had to keep the earpiece a bit away from his ear, as she talked. He wasn't even listening to her. Not really. He could care less about her preaching, because he wasn't even considering being with anyone, even if Mr. Perfect should make an appearance, he wasn't up for dating.

"Anyway!" he interrupted, trying to bring the conversation back on track. "I doubt Puckerman going to juvie is the only news I have been missing for the last week."

"_Fine. No, it's not. We got a new guy in glee club_," she continued. Kurt felt his stomach turn at the new information. God, he missed the New Directions. Not just it's members, but the club as well. He missed singing and meeting up with people who felt like outsiders just as much as he did. "_His name's Sam Evans._"

"Is he cute?" He didn't really care, because he already hated the guy, but the two had been friends for more than a year, and had come to certain... understandings about each other. One of them was that if the other wasn't asking for an evaluation of new meat, something was wrong, so Kurt dutifully asked to get a unimportant answer.

"_I'll give him an eight out of ten. He's cute, but not like to die for. He has a gigantic mouth. Seriously, he could fit tennis balls in there,_" she told him with a laugh. Kurt only smiled wryly.

"Good for him. Anything else?" he asked, looking to the time on his laptop. If he wanted to hit the school library before it closed, he had to get going soon.

"_Yeah, Finchel's acting weird_," Mercedes said, confusion evident in her voice.

"Well, that's not news. Are they even together at the moment?" he wondered, having not been completely up to date on the strange couple consisting of Finn and Rachel.

"_They are. But they're acting strange. They like keep whispering to each other, and Finn's so obsessed with Sam, it's starting to freak me out_," Mercedes explained. Kurt looked to the clock once more.

"I'm really sorry, Cedes, but I gotta go. I was supposed to pick up a book from the library, and they close in like half an hour. I'll talk to you soon, okay?" he said, saying good bye to his best friend of all time. As he pressed 'end call', it felt as if he ended more than the call. He sighed and closed his laptop, before heading out of the apartment.

As he drove to Dalton, listening to the radio, his thoughts wandered to his old glee club. He really missed them. His friends kept him updated, telling him of all the drama considered to be 'not upsetting', but he missed being cause of it too. Instead Rachel and Quinn were free to do whatever they wanted, without the gay guy's opinion getting known, if Mercedes didn't bring it up to them. Kurt was sick of only being a voice through the phone. He felt annoyed, overlooked and most of all so _alone_.

He carefully rubbed his eyes to get rid of any tears forming in his eyes, but avoid getting his cheeks all hot and bothered. He would not cry about being lonely! It was just so unfair. Everyone had someone. If not a girl/boyfriend then a close friend, a crush or well _parents _– he had a workaholic aunt and an impossible room to design.

He drove into the Dalton parking lot, where he parked his beloved Navigator. He would always feel a rush of sadness, when he got in the car though – it had been a gift from his father. The father who was not around to make his loneliness better. He was just gone.

Kurt was wiping his cheeks as he made it into the main building, trying really hard not to sob and make people look at him. He felt ridiculous for crying and just wanted to get his book and return to the apartment. But things never did quite go, as he wanted them to, now did they.

"Are you all right?" a voice asked from behind him, and he felt like turning around to scream at the guy. No, he was not all right. He turned and found himself looking into hazel eyes. "Oh my god, you're crying," the guy suddenly exclaimed.

"Well, aren't you observant," Kurt spat, but his voice was stained with tears. He groaned, trying to wipe the tears off his cheeks. The guy reached for him, but Kurt stepped away. The boy didn't back down though. He respected that Kurt wanted to get away, but he wasn't offended by his half-cruel comment.

"Sorry," he said instead, handing him a tissue from his satchel. Kurt took it, desperate to get the tears to disappear and never come back. He'd been so careful to not let go in front of people, and it annoyed him to no end that he'd gotten this upset and it was all triggered by something as stupid as his old glee club getting a new member. He should be happy for them! They finally had 12 members and were able to compete at sectionals, which was only a little over a month away. Maybe his psychologist was right, maybe he really couldn't handle upsetting things.

"No, I'm sorry," Kurt apologized, swallowing his pride, because it really wasn't the boy's fault he was so messed up. He vaguely remembered meeting the guy on his first day at Dalton, but the name of the boy was gone. "I'll just..." he said tipping his head towards the stairs leading to the floor of the library.

"Wait. Is there anything I can do?" the guy practically begged. Kurt didn't see why he'd be so desperate to help a guy crying. Wasn't it suppose to make people seem weak when they cried? That had certainly been the message he'd gotten at McKinley. Damn, he was thinking of his old school again, and he felt the tears come back.

"Oh God," he mumbled, as he started wiping his eyes again. The guy handed him another tissue. "No, I'm just a mess at the moment. I'm fine," he told him, but the boy suddenly grabbed for his wrist, making him freeze. It felt the same way as it had, when he'd touched him that first day. Kurt had sort of just accepted that his cravings for touch, when he was down, were simply not to be filled, but as their hands touched, he forgot all about pulling away. He gasped, just looking at the place, where they were connected. Blaine. That was his name, wasn't it? Blaine Anderson. Kurt looked into those hazel eyes to see concern and desperation in them.

"Clearly you're not. What's the matter?" Blaine questioned, but he wasn't demanding an answer. Kurt took a deep breath.

"Seriously, it's nothing, all right. I need to get to the library before it closes," he told him. With that he left up the stairs without looking back to where Blaine was standing with a confused expression on his face.

He had to stop and ask a student for directions, but when he turned a corner on the second floor, he didn't doubt he'd found the library. The entrance alone was impressive with huge pillars supporting a nicely done carving of a crest. Kurt pushed open the heavy wooden doors, stepping into the even more impressive library of Dalton Academy. Shelves upon shelves were creating a maze in the big room. The shelves at McKinley had been of white steel, but at Dalton everything was done the old fashioned way, so naturally everything was wood.

Kurt soon found the librarian who showed him to where the section of biographies were placed. Kurt was supposed to write a paper on a person who'd changed history. Kurt had at first not been excited about the assignment, but had then decided to twist it a little, choosing to write about Lady GaGa. All he needed was some facts, and the librarian had promised him she'd retrieve it for him earlier that day. He was simply to pick it up before they closed at five.

"There you go," she said, handing him the book with a smile. Kurt had only met old librarians, but apparently Dalton was all about getting the youth to anticipate and the woman before him was no more than thirty at the most.

"Thank you," he said, voice a little hoarse from his earlier crying, as he stuffed the book in his bag. She returned to her computer, leaving Kurt alone with all the books. Should he like try and seem interest in some of them? He felt almost guilty for not using this gigantic source when it was right there. He wondered how much money went to the library, remembering the way the principal at his old school had always walked around with a calculator, telling people of how it was an extra three dollars of payment to the janitor, when someone threw garbage on the ground. Things sure were different at Dalton. Kurt doubted he had even seen the principal.

Just as he'd decided on looking for a little while, his thoughts were cut off by the sound of music. He looked up to see the librarian looking as well, though she didn't seem surprised by the sudden outburst of rhythm – she seemed almost annoyed.

"This has got to stop," he heard her breathe before disappearing into the jungle of books. Kurt quickly got his satchel and rushed out the library to find the source of the music. He could hear it wasn't recorded, no it wasn't even instruments. It was no doubt a cappella he heard, as he made it down the halls of the school. He stopped outside an open door to see about fifteen guys dancing around.

Kurt wasn't the only one who'd been captured with the voices, which could be heard in the whole building. Around the door more students were nodding their heads in time with the music.

"_'Cause it goes on and on and on. Yeah, it goes on and on and on_," a blonde guy sang with a laugh, but then Kurt's eye was caught when he saw Blaine jump up one of the couches in the room. He gasped, but luckily Blaine made the jump without hurting himself or others – he was clearly in training.

"_I throw my hands up in the air sometimes, singing ayo, gotta let go_," Blaine sang, and Kurt unconsciously moved closer to the singing group. Was he imagining Blaine's eyes staring right at him?

Kurt looked around the room with a curious gaze to avoid the hazel ones glaring at him. Heavy curtains were framing the huge windows of what was obviously a choir room. The floor was wood, and as the singing group of guys stepped on it, it creaked. Kurt could even smell how old the choir room was. But the boys singing their hearts out in the middle of couches and smelly curtains were nothing like the surroundings. Kurt was reminded of the feeling he'd been addicted to in his old glee club. The feeling of being a part of something special. He could definitely see it in the eyes of the many boys, but especially Blaine was rocking the song, dancing around like crazy, impressing Kurt by not being out of breath.

"_I wanna celebrate and live my life, saying ayo, baby, let's go_," Blaine continued in a talented voice. The version these guys did had less of a rap quality and more of a pop feeling to it. Kurt found he liked their version better than the original.

When they finished by throwing all of their hands in the air to the last mention of the word 'dynamite', Kurt was clapping with a stunned expression on his face. He was impressed with the boys, but more than anything he was captured by the addicting feeling of show choir. God, he missed the New Directions.

Kurt felt like someone had put a hand around his neck. It was as if the music grew and grew in volume. The room was suddenly way too crowded. He needed to get out.

Kurt grabbed his bag, making it out the door, as the guys finished singing. Without second thought he walked down the stairs to the sound of the remaining crowd cheering for the singers. Kurt felt as if he was going to get sick, but as soon as he stepped out of the school and into the parking lot, his stomach calmed a little. Fresh air and silence was what he really needed. He took in a shaky breath, just to dwell on the feeling of air filling his lounges.

"This is pathetic, Hummel," he whispered to himself before heading for his car. He really needed to get over those totally inappropriate break downs – and especially in public. His pride could not take being comforted by anymore strangers.

As he drove away from the parking lot, he looked a last time in the side-view mirror before turning out on the street and saw the look of a completely confused Blaine. Kurt huffed, turning his gaze from the guy. He really didn't need any more strangers in his life.

* * *

**September 23.**

**Blaine**

"A little higher, please," the dentist requested and Blaine opened his mouth wider. Oh, how he hated getting cavities filled – he could have sworn he'd gotten better at not eating stuff after brushing his teeth. Apparently his efforts hadn't been affective, because there he was again: in a dentist chair with various instruments filling up his mouth uncomfortably. It didn't help that Blaine refused to let them anesthetize him. He freaked out when he couldn't feel parts of his body, and having the procedure done without being drugged wasn't as bad as people made it sound – though he was always very sensitive towards cold air a day or two after.

The only positive thing Blaine could think about going to the dentist, was the time you got to just sit back and think about stuff. The last week had been quite stressful to say the least. His father had gotten the promise of a promotion, which had been celebrated with a small party on Sunday for some of his colleagues. At first Blaine hadn't been invited, but then his mother had insisted that since he was home anyway it would be silly for him to not put on something nice and dine with them. It had been the most awkward four hours of his life. Sitting there living up to lies his father had told his coworkers.

"_So Blaine, you're thinking about medical school?_"

"_Your father tells me you're in the debate club at your school – any interesting themes?_"

"_I hear, you're going to Washington for college?_"

"_Got a girlfriend, Blaine? Surely you must be a ladies man like your dad, huh?_"

It had been _such_ a long evening. His father had practically made up a completely different son. Blaine wasn't sure how he felt about it. Was he angry? It didn't feel like anger the dull ache he felt in his chest. And the lump in his throat hadn't felt like swearing.

"You just pull my sleeve when you want a break," the woman assisting the dentist told him and Blaine nodded. He'd tried it before. The seemingly huge drill made it's way into his mouth and he closed his eyes to focus on something else.

The week had been stressful at Dalton too. He'd had to say no so many times through the last days, people had started looking at him funny. What was wrong with being the push over? What was actually wrong was the constant presence of one of his friends. They were so determined to not have him fall into old habits of helping everyone, so they'd actually made up a _scheme_ to make sure he was never left alone. He felt like a junkie on withdrawal from the way they treated him.

It was annoying to never be let alone, but what was really annoying was the way his friends were keeping him from tracking down Kurt Hummel. He'd almost convinced himself he'd been mistaken the day before, when he saw him watching the Warblers rehearse for sectionals. Blaine had been so confused. First he'd seen Kurt nodding his head unconsciously in time with the music, then he'd looked away for no longer than a second and he'd looked like he was going to be sick. The next moment he had left the room, and Blaine hadn't been able to get out fast enough either. He had only really thought of getting to Kurt as fast as possible. He'd had to tell Wes he was going to the bathroom to even be let alone, but then he'd ran the best he'd learned, only to see the back of Kurt's car leave the parking lot. He didn't know what was more embarrassing: the fact that he had run after a guy he hardly knew like in a bad romantic comedy, or that he was completely out of breath from having run _down_ the stairs – no, the running resolution never got to more than two times in January.

Blaine pulled the sleeve of the assistant and the drill disappeared from his mouth. He instantly closed his mouth, enjoying not having to stretch his jaw.

"You ready again?" the assistant asked, and he nodded awkwardly. Having the space between your lips and teeth stuffed with cotton wool didn't really help on his silly expression. If dentists had mirrors over their chairs, people would simply never go, Blaine concluded, as he opened his mouth again.

Back to thoughts of Kurt Hummel. Blaine didn't even know what it was about that kid that made his head spin every time they walked past each other. Surely it wasn't just his ears that had Blaine in a daze. He'd actually considered getting his car, leaving both school bag and his friends to follow Kurt to wherever he was going, but something told Blaine to not push the guy. Though he was ashamed, Blaine had been studying the new junior from afar for the last week, and though he felt like a giant creep for doing so, it gave him information about who Kurt was and how to possibly approach him. It wasn't actually creepy stalking, since it was really just to get an idea of the guy he'd decided to make his independence project. What he'd observed had left him hesitant though.

He'd seen Kurt alone in the dining hall, eating, reading his magazines and one day he'd even brought fabric samples to school. He had seen him around campus with his eyes stuck in books. One day he'd walked by and been lucky enough to see the cover of Kurt's book. The title had read 'Tear soup' and the cover showed a picture of a huge pot filled with steaming soup. Blaine had googled the title when he came home. It was a book about coping with grief. Blaine had instantly felt so bad and intrusive. Like he had been prying on Kurt in a way not acceptable.

He'd been completely thrown off by that and his fear of saying the wrong thing had become one of the reasons he hadn't approached Kurt before. He'd planned on making the junior his project of independence. He would go behind his friends' backs and show them that they couldn't just controle him. But he'd seen him with the book, and combined with the bodyguard he always carried around, he hadn't approached him. But as he'd seen him in the hall with tears down his cheeks, he hadn't even thought about the right way to address him, he hadn't even been thinking. Unfortunately Kurt had not been in a mood to talk – that much had been clear to Blaine. He couldn't deny it had hurt a little, when Kurt had snapped at him, but the monster inside of him that craved to please people hadn't let him show anything other than sympathy. And if others knew that Kurt was reading books about grief, wouldn't they try and do something for him too? Blaine wasn't sure he liked a world were people wouldn't feel bad for the angelic junior with cute ears.

"Aaaand... We're done. Now the worst part is over," the dentist said with a smile, which Blaine couldn't really return. Stupid dentists. Always try and make you speak while you have your mouth stuffed and you're drooling. "I'll just disinfect it and then comes the plastic." Blaine's tooth was sensitive and the cool air constantly hitting the exposed area was filling his eyes with tears. A instrument that looked suspiciously like a needle was put in his mouth, but Blaine knew the blue liquid in it was only soap. After more cleaning the tiny piece of plastic was placed on his tooth. "Only adjustment is left now. It will only take a moment."

Luckily it did only take a moment. Then Blaine was sent off with a travel size toothpaste and a cool mini dinosaur, he'd had to ask if he could have. He could have sworn he saw the dentist roll his eyes. So what if he was sixteen and liked models of prehistoric creatures?

He was then guided towards the reception, were they made sure they had the right address for who was paying the bill. _Thank you very much, dad_, Blaine thought with a smile as he got a print of the receive.

As he made his way to his car his thoughts went back to a certain porcelain skinned junior. He really was pretty. Blaine imagined how his face would look if he would smile. That was something he'd noticed too. Kurt never really smiled. Funny, because Blaine remembered a smile as he'd met him on the first day of school – had he been mistaken? No, but it was arguable how much of a smile it really had been. It had looked both rusty and forced.

_The guy must be really down_, Blaine mused, and considered for a moment if he was even worth trying to help. Some people were just too far gone for unprofessional. But as soon as he'd thought it he felt like slapping himself. The guy was 17 maybe 18 at the most – nothing could have ruined him too bad. If something had, he wouldn't be at Dalton either. Blaine knew of places where you placed suicidal people. No, whatever Kurt was down about was not that severe. It just couldn't be. And as he drove out the parking lot of the dentist, he decided that no bodyguard and no awkwardness was going to keep him from learning about Kurt Hummel.

* * *

**Song:**

**Taio Cruz – Dynamite **


	6. A drop in the ocean

**A/N: **Wow it's been a long time since I pressed the 'Post new chapter' button... But I told you it would probably be a while before the next update, and I am so flattered that people kept adding this to their story alerts in spite of that - so thank you! :) Also the reviews I've gotten are quickly becomming an addiction... I've heard authors on this site call reviews their fix, and I always thought they were exaggerating - they're not! xD

This chapter is actually betaed! So many different kinds of thank yous to HailParadise, who's saved me from a lot of typos and some crazy phrasings!

The song of this chapter is called 'A drop in the ocean' by Ron Rope.

Oh and last I want to warn people of spoilers for the movie 'An Education' in this chapter and my possibly incorrect German. Though I've had German for four years now, I'm still bad at it.

* * *

Chapter six: A drop in the ocean

**October 1.**

**Kurt**

"Kurt Hummel?" Dr. Pacer called, making Kurt look up from the magazine he was reading. He got his bag and followed her into the office. "So how have you been the last couple of weeks? I'm sorry we had to cancel your last appointment."Kurt somehow made himself comfortable in the patient's chair, thinking for a moment about her question. How was he? If he was being honest he felt like crap. He felt exposed all the time. In the beginning reality would just hit him with no warning at all. Up to a point he'd created a sort of shield, shielding himself from the more superficial hurt, but he felt like it had broken., and he'd thought he was getting better. But as of late he started getting hit again.

"I'm fine," he told her, forcing a little smile. She sat down as well, getting out her pad and a pen.

"Just fine?" she asked him.

"Yes," Kurt stated without further explanation. He had every right to lie – and especially to a question people lied about a million times each day.

"_How are you?_" "_Just great_" - though she just found out her boyfriend cheated on her.

"_How are you?_" "_I'm good_" - though he's just waiting to get home to his razor blades.

"_How are you?_" "_I'm wonderful_" - though he failed the test and is too afraid to tell anyone.

"Okay," Dr. Pacer budged. She looked to her notes before questioning him again. "Have you had any nightmares recently?"

"Yes," Kurt told her – no reason to lie there. He had nightmares and had been forced to stay awake for countless hours every night since March. They were pretty much the same as back then, but scenes of clearing out the house and a murdered glee club had joined them.

And hazel brown eyes.

As much as Kurt hated admitting it, ever since the performance he'd witnessed at Dalton, he'd kept seeing Blaine's eyes in his sleep.

"Has anything changed or is it still the same?" she questioned. Kurt considered lying, but ended up thinking, what the hell.

"They've been... extended," he told her, not looking her in the eye. Somehow he found it really embarrassing to mention Blaine, or any guy really, to her. It felt like she was crossing the line between professional and friend. And what would she think of him? He'd met the guy twice and suddenly his eyes appeared in the worst of his nightmares? Would she assume Blaine was bad for him? Would she be able to give him an explanation? In the end Kurt was too curious. "There's this guy at Dalton, who... He's... We met and..." he tried, but kept stumbling over the words.

"Is this guy a love interest of yours?" Dr. Pacer offered and Kurt's eyes widened in surprise.

"No! No, it's not like that. We just... I've only met him like twice and now his eyes pop up in my dreams," he explained.

"How do his eyes affect you?" Dr. Pacer asked, nose turned to her pad, as she wrote and wrote.

"I mean, they're nice, but it's not like... I've really only talked to him twice and one time I was crying and couldn't really see that well," Kurt defended, because the truth was that those eyes affected him more than he would care to admit.

"I meant in your dreams," she said. Kurt thought about that for a moment. It would have been so romantic if Blaine's eyes had been a comfort to him in the middle of a terrible nightmare, but whenever Kurt was met by those intense eyes in his sleep, he felt an overwhelming amount of fear and guilt run through him.

"I- they're a part of the nightmares just as much as any other scene," he said and she nodded, still writing on her pad.

"So they make you uncomfortable?" Kurt nodded. "Kurt, I have to ask you, has this guy done anything to you? Is he bullying you?" This time Kurt shook his head violently.

"No, it's not like that either. I don't know why my subconscious doesn't like him. When I'm awake I find him very appealing," he explained, too quickly to catch himself.

"I see. Exactly what feelings are you experiencing when you see these eyes?"

"Fear mostly, but also... guilt," Kurt admitted, surprised that he was still telling the truth. Normally he would have cut her off, insisting she dwelt on one problem too long for his liking.

"Now, Kurt I haven't met him and you've only talked about him today, but is there a chance he could be interested in you?" she asked him. Kurt considered it for a while, but ended up shaking his head.

"No, he's just really friendly," he explained.

"And how have you reacted towards this friendliness? I know you're allergic to phonies," she said with a wry smile, which Kurt didn't return. He thought back to the first time he'd met Blaine. He had been nice, and Kurt had been nice too, right? Yes, he had. The second time had been something else. He'd been upset beforehand and Blaine trying to help had just made him even more upset, made him snap at him. That hadn't been nice, but he _had_ apologized for it. "Kurt?"

"I guess I could have been nicer," he mumbled. It was hurting his pride to admit it, but he had been a little bitchy towards Blaine, and for people not used to it, it could maybe be... a little strange.

"Okay," Dr. Pacer said, but her mind was clearly far away.

"You have a theory?" Kurt asked after a while and was met with a nod from the doctor.

"You mentioned guilt as a reaction, and from what I get from you, he hasn't done anything unpleasant. I think your subconscious wants you to be easier on him," she told him.

Kurt found her theory very likely, knowing himself. He always felt bad for how bitchy he would get. Well, he'd started to become guilty, ever since he started thinking about the words leaving his mouth, as much as he'd gotten to. They continued the session, but Kurt was distant. Dr. Pacer sensed that her patient wasn't going to open up more than he had, and passed the time with simple questions, a few exercises along with a lot of small breaks.

* * *

**October 5. **

**Blaine**

"Guten Tag, Klasse. Wie gehen es euch?" their teacher Herr Gansel greeted them, when he made it into the sophomores' German class on a dull Tuesday morning. He'd been teaching them the German language for the past month, but none of them were any closer to understanding his greetings if the blank expressions around the room were any indication. After the daily confused routine, which consisted of Herr Gansel asking them to get their books out, only to realize he had forgotten to take attendance, he finally sat down and got to the homework assigned for that class. "All right, you were suppose to practice conjugating the word 'sein'. Who wants to start off?"

"Shit, I forgot," Nick whispered to Blaine, who was sitting beside him in the classroom. Blaine looked just as scared of being picked as Nick though. Luckily for them Adam Jardin put his hand up, indicating he wanted to try.

"Yes, Adam, go ahead," the teacher said with a smile, leaning against the teacher's desk as he watched his student.

"Ich bin," Adam started. "Du bist. Er, sie, es ist," he continued, but then got confused. "Wir..."

"... sind," Herr Gansel helped him after a moment and Adam got back on track.

"Wir sind. Ihr seid. Sie/Sie sind," he finished.

"Yes, very good. Anyone else?" No one volunteered and luckily Herr Gansel was in a good mood that day, so he let it slide, and instead started reading aloud from their textbook. Nick and Blaine however were not concentrating on the difficult task of learning another language. Someone had once said to Blaine that German was like math, but considering he was awful at math, he really didn't see himself becoming the next John F. Kennedy, though that would probably shut up his father.

"Do you get what he's saying?" Blaine asked Nick in a whisper, but his friend just shook his head. Some of the teachers at Dalton sometimes forgot that their students weren't the ones who'd just graduated, which often led them to overestimate the new students' skills. "Wanna play tic tac toe?" he whispered and Nick nodded. Blaine clumsily drew a board and handed Nick a pink marker.

"Why do I get the pink one?" Nick complained in a whisper, pouting.

"Because you get to go first, so make your move, Duval," Blaine said with a chuckle, watching Nick draw an X in the center of the board. Blaine then placed a circle in the upper right corner.

"Can I ask you something?" Nick asked, placing another X in the lower right corner.

"Sure," Blaine answered, cutting off Nick's move by placing a circle in the upper left corner.

"Why didn't you ever get a second date with Andrew O'Brien?" Though the boys both had their eyes in their books and arms close to the paper between them, Blaine felt as if they were intentionally avoiding eye contact all of a sudden.

"That was all the way back in March, why are you asking?" Blaine hadn't meant for it to be, but his tone was clearly defensive. Nick was one of his best friends, but he had never really told his friends about his family. Well, he'd mentioned his father not being supportive, but they probably thought he only meant he didn't show up for competitions and perhaps snapped quickly. What they didn't know was what Blaine went through every time his father saw him with a guy. Hours of interrogation were mandatory for every glimpse his father saw of a boy around his son. If his father then still saw the guy as a threat, he would punish Blaine for just about _anything_ – even if Blaine promised he would stop seeing the guy. He had spent most of April grounded for different reasons. His father hadn't as much as mentioned the coffee date, but to Blaine it was clear he was getting punished. Most of the summer he'd spent working both in a theme park and at a local cafe, and every night his mother would ask him if he'd met someone that day. He'd felt betrayed, knowing she was only asking on behalf of her husband – was he getting to her? Blaine wouldn't _really_ blame her, if she decided to just once and for all pick a side. It had to be exhausting defending both parties in a house as small as theirs.

"I just got thinking about it the other day. You seemed excited to be going, and then the following day you said it had been fun, but refused to meet up with him again. I have two classes with him this year, and I think he's nice," Nick explained, but that only made Blaine tense up more. Why did his friend have to have such good memory?

"I did have a good time, okay," Blaine told him, placing a naught in their second game after he had won the previous. Nick placed a cross before whispering back.

"Then why don't you repeat the success?" Blaine didn't know what to say. He wouldn't try and explain how strict his father was about him dating, but what could he say then?

"Because I'm interested in someone else," Blaine heard himself whisper to Nick. _Shit! Where did that come from?_ Blaine thought mentally face palming, but on the outside he kept a straight face.

"What?!" Nick said a little too loudly.

"Keep your eyes in the book, Duval," Herr Gansel called from the front of the class. Both boys kept silent for a while before Nick slipped Blaine a note with a single word written in his crumbled handwriting. **Who?**

God, it felt like being back in second grade all over again to Blaine. The whole 'tell me who your crush is' had been something he'd gone through _so _many times. And Blaine was terrible at ignoring his friends. He could just as well spit it out.

Wait, did he actually like someone?

Pictures of the faintest hint of a smile found their way into his mind. Blue, ice cold eyes filled with tears, turning cheeks pink. Who was that?

**Kurt Hummel**, Blaine wrote back. He knew he'd only talked to him twice, and one of those times he'd been snapped at, but he couldn't deny the curiosity he felt towards the junior. Maybe 'being interested' was a strong term to use. What he meant was that if Kurt was to take an interest in him too, he would be down on his knees in gratitude. Blaine didn't enjoy theater for nothing.

* * *

**October 8.**

**Kurt **

"You got the popcorn?" Kurt called to his aunt, who was sitting in her pajamas in the living room, just back from getting their comforters.

"Yes! Now get in here or I'll start it without you," she teased, making Kurt grab the two glasses of lemonade before making his way in to sit next to her. He couldn't help but smile fondly at her childish shirt saying 'I'm not afraid of the dark' and with a luminescent drawing of a terrified guy with a flashlight.

They were having another movie night. It had originally been Kurt's idea, because it was really the only thing he could think of wanting to do with his aunt. When watching a movie with someone, you don't _have_ to talk, and if the silence gets too long, you can just comment on the movie, and then be quiet for the next ten minutes. But that night was their third time doing a movie night, and Kurt found that they were easily talking through most of it. They found they had somewhat similar taste in movies, and that his aunt was all far trying something new, she'd told him.

In the beginning it had been beyond awkward, since neither knew how to break the ice, but both knew they needed to, especially since she'd cut down on the hours she spent working. Kurt had suggested they watched something as innocent as 'The Wizard of Oz'. His aunt claimed she'd never seen it, which led to Kurt sharing all his knowledge of the movie – and then the ice had been broken.

That night they were watching 'An Education'. A minute and a half into the movie, Kurt was cringing, itching to complain about the hideous uniforms the girls were wearing. He had never really considered how much worse the Dalton uniform could have been. But then again anything would look stylish compared to the oversized shirt stuffed into those poor actresses' below the knee skirts. Kurt found himself wondering if Noah Puckerman would have turned the movie off already had he been in the room with them. A small smile played at his lips at the thought.

"That's not what Dalton's like, is it?" his aunt worried, and Kurt looked up to see a scene with what seemed to be twenty kids or so practicing different instruments, playing classical music, looking bored out of their minds. Kurt wrinkled his nose. He then thought of the performance he'd seen at Dalton. A performance of guys singing a top 40 song while dancing around, looking like silly ten year olds.

"No, definitely not," Kurt said, slight amusement evident in his voice. When a stranger drove up to the soaked Jenny, telling her of his worries about her cello, Kurt snorted. "You just _know_ that's not gonna work out," he told his aunt who just stared at him.

"What? That's romantic!" she insisted, gesturing towards the television as if to point out how wrong Kurt was. "They're the ones on the cover – of course it works out."

"No come on, he's in a suit, the way the camera is focusing on his expensive watch, his car is antique, he offers a girl who looks fourteen a smoke – he's not the good guy," Kurt argued, eyes not leaving the screen. They continued to watch, both convinced they were right and the other wrong.

"See, that I understand," Kurt said, commenting on Jenny's dream of being French.

"I don't know. If I was to smoke, wear black and never speak a word, I'd probably go insane," his aunt mused.

"Well, no one should doom themselves to wear only one color," Kurt partially agreed. The film was quite predictable, but Kurt found it relaxing rather than annoying. It was really all he needed after a week of school and getting attacked by one Rachel Berry all week. Apparently the New Direction got the list of who they'd compete against at sectionals, and Dalton Academy's Warblers were one of them.

"_Surely you can give us something on them, Kurt. It's not even immoral, because you're not one of them_," she'd said, but he didn't really care if he was a Warbler or not. The stomachaches he'd been getting every time he thought about his old glee club had been good for something – he didn't consider himself a part of their club anymore either, and Rachel just had to deal with that.

"Are you still convinced he's not the good guy – he brought her to Paris!" his aunt said.

"Just wait," Kurt insisted and he saw his aunt's smirk turn wider, as David proposed. Kurt didn't make an argument before they announced it to David's friends.

"You see that look they're sharing? I'm telling you, there's something wrong with that guy," he said, and his aunt had to agree it was a bit weird for the characters to react the way they did. When they neared the end of the movie they found out that David was already married and lived just down the street from Jenny with his wife, Kurt smirked, satisfied.

"Fine, go ahead," his aunt sighed, as a picture of a crying Jenny was shown.

"I. Told. You. So." He drew out every word to make it sting, but he was smiling. It had been so long since he'd smiled that much in one evening. They watched till the end, before his aunt turned off the TV, and they turned to face each other.

"You're quite the people reader," his aunt said. She sounded rather impressed.

"Well, I have seen a lot of movies where the good guy turns out to really be the bad guy," Kurt said with a wink. "Like Bridget Jones Diary, though it was more obvious in that one."

"But you just knew right away. How do you do that?"

"I'm just not easily fooled by something that isn't real in the first place," he said softly.

* * *

**October 9.**

**Blaine**

"Hello, my name is Blaine Anderson. I would like to talk to someone in charge?" Blaine politely said into the phone. It was a Saturday morning and though his voice probably indicated a dapper prep school boy on the phone, he was actually lying in his bed, morning hair and only clad in boxers and the blue t-shirt he'd slept in. It wasn't his fault that the call had to be before ten or else the manager would have gone home, according to the girl he'd talked to the day before.

"Can I ask what it's about?" the guy who'd answered the phone asked.

"I heard that you sometimes let people perform at your cafe and wanted to know if a friend of mine and I could be considered," Blaine explained. The guy excused himself for a minute, which gave Blaine an opportunity to yawn.

"Felix Sanders speaking – who am I talking to?" a deeper voice suddenly introduced itself in Blaine's ear.

"Good morning, sir, my name's Blaine Anderson. I'm a musician. My friend Nick Duval and I would like to play at your cafe sometime," Blaine told him.

"I see. How old are you both?" Mr. Sanders questioned.

"16, sir," Blaine answered with a smile evident in his voice.

"That makes you-?"

"Sophomores, sir," Blaine offered then added: "at Dalton Academy."

"All right. What kind of music do you play?" Blaine mentally threw a fist in the air. He was on his way to getting a job. Sure he'd worked in coffee houses and cafes before, but this was a place where they didn't just let anyone in. He knew mentioning Dalton was a bonus. Managers liked when they knew for certain that their employee for the evening didn't turn up with green hair and a bullring through the nose, ready to play hardcore metal for their guest.

"We do covers. Mostly pop and sometimes rock numbers but we like slow them down to ballads. And Broadway music too," he told him, getting a pleased grunt on the other end from Mr. Sanders.

"Good, good. Equipment?"

"We have our own instruments."

"We have both microphones and speakers, but rental of that will be taken from your salary," Mr. Sanders explained and Blaine agreed. "Come down here on Monday and we'll figure something out."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Sanders," Blaine thanked him, before politely saying good bye and wishing him a pleasant day. As he ended the call he felt a smile as big as a football spread on his face. The feeling he got every time he was promised a gig was filling his stomach, and it felt great. He wanted to some day be an acknowledged singer and he knew it would take more than being lead singer in an a Capella choir to make people notice him. He'd sung at theme parks, at malls around Christmas, he'd auditioned for several local productions of musicals and gotten a few roles there singing in the ensemble. He still liked being in the Warblers the best, since it made him feel like a part of something bigger, but those paid performances were great too. It was a boost of confidence every time it happened, and Blaine suddenly couldn't wait till Monday.

* * *

**October 15. **

**Kurt**

"Are you hungry?" Kurt's aunt called from the bathroom where she was laying the finishing touches on her makeup. Kurt swore that some day – a day where they would be more than just two people living under the same roof – he'd show her how to not make her face look like a crash of mascara and that awful lipstick she insisted on wearing. He'd once or twice sent her back in her room to redress, but that been fashion emergencies he just couldn't deal with. He still didn't feel like it was his place to save her from _all_ of her wardrobe like he'd done with Carole.

"I'll go make dinner, though it won't be too heavy – don't think I didn't see that taco sauce stain on the shirt you were wearing this morning," Kurt said in a stern tone. He knew he couldn't control his aunt's eating habits, but when she poisoned her body with junk food, he couldn't bring himself to _not_ point it out. Hopefully one day she'd start feeling guilty for all the empty carbohydrates she was putting in her mouth daily.

"I was thinking we could go out and eat, if you want to," she suggested with a smile and a shrug of one shoulder. She was putting earrings in, and for the first time Kurt noticed that she was sort of dressed up. It was a Friday evening, but Kurt was still in his Dalton uniform.

"Sure," he said, a bit surprised. "Let me just go change then."

"Twenty minutes, Kurt. That's it," she called after him, only receiving an annoyed 'fine' in return.

He managed to get ready in 18 minutes and made a big deal of pointing it out, as they drove towards the inner city.

They parked the car and made their way through the streets, looking for a nice place to eat. On their way Kurt had to stop at two shops selling scarves, while his aunt stood beside him complaining about being hungry. Had he had it his way, they would have stayed much longer, but a whiny aunt was never on his wish list.

"Do you hear music?" she suddenly asked him. Kurt did hear music, but he couldn't determine from where it came.

"_Before you met me, I was all right, but things were kind of heavy. Brought me to life, now every February, you'll be my Valentine, Valentine_." Somehow Kurt thought he knew that voice. As they turned a corner, it was clear that the music was coming from a cafe placed right between a shoe store and an ice cream shop.

"Wanna check out the menu?" his aunt asked him.

"Sure," he said, leading them to the sign telling them what the cafe offered.

"Uh, they have lasagna," his aunt cheered.

"Yeah, it looks good," Kurt agreed, but suddenly his eye was caught by something else:

**Playing tonight:**

Blaine Anderson and Nick Duval

And when he'd first read the sign he recognized Blaine's distinctive voice singing the lyrics of a Katy Perry song. He'd heard it that one time, when he'd been singing with those guys at Dalton, but as he heard it again, only accompanied by a acoustic guitar, he found it was quite haunting. Kurt couldn't help but let out a surprised breath of air.

"Can we sit inside?" he asked his aunt. It was chilly outside, but people seemed to be offered blankets to keep warm, but Kurt would rather get a table closer to the music.

"_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream. The way you turn me on, I can't sleep. Let's run away and don't ever look back, don't ever look back_," Blaine sang as they made their way into the cafe. They found a free table in the back, but it was really his aunt leading the way, because Kurt had a hard time seeing anything but Blaine in a dimly lit corner, dancing with himself as a guy he recognized from his first day at Dalton played the guitar. Blaine's front was turned to the room, but his eyes were constantly shutting as he sang.

"_My heart stops, when you look at me. Just one touch, now baby I believe. This is real, so take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back._" Kurt's eyes were as glued to Blaine. He was wearing a red sweater with a black shirt underneath just visible at the color and at his wrists. From what Kurt could see, he was wearing denim pants and had on some sort of sailor shoes. It was the first time he saw him in something other than a Dalton uniform, and he had to admit it fit him well.

"They're good," his aunt said as a waitress came over with two menus. Kurt nodded.

"Very," he agreed. He hid behind the menu, stealing glances to where Blaine was still singing. Though he really wanted to hear the boys sing, he didn't want to be recognized.

"What are you doing?"his aunt laughed, tipping the menu to look at Kurt, but he quickly placed it before his face again. Why had he agreed to eat at a place where Blaine was playing again? Kurt felt his fingertips itching. He was blushing too. With a groan he face palmed with the hand that wasn't keeping his face hidden.

"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom," he mumbled, too late realizing that if he stood he would probably be seen even faster. He tried making his way to the bathroom by walking close to the wall, but his worries were unnecessary. Blaine had found someone at a table near the front, whom he was prompting to sing along and dance with him. Kurt made his way through the door that said 'Men' without being seen.

As he watched himself in the mirror, it hit him how stupid he was acting. Ever since that therapy session with Dr. Pacer, where she'd insinuated Kurt felt guilty towards Blaine, he'd unconsciously avoided him. Surely it wasn't guilt he was feeling. But as he felt an invisible hand press down over his heart, making him breathe out too quickly, he realized Dr. Pacer had been right.

"Perfect. Just perfect," he hissed, pulling some tissues form the dispenser, wetting them with water from the tap. He brought it to his cheeks, enjoying the cold feeling of water rolling down, pooling at his chin before dropping to the sink. He reached to wet another tissue, when suddenly the door opened.

Kurt could hear people applauding in the other room and Blaine's voice thank them from a microphone, but as he turned towards the door, he saw Nick's brown eyes looking back at him.

"Kurt?" he said, sounding surprised but also a little worried. That was when Kurt realized he was in a public bathroom, and the water on his cheeks could very well be mistaken as tears. He quickly grabbed some dry tissues to wipe off the water.

"Hi," he said, his voice coming out breathy and high. Damn it.

"You okay?" Nick tentatively walked into the room.

"Yes. It's like a sauna in there," Kurt lied, and he was surprised when Nick bought it, nodding his head as if he was thinking about something. "You're both really good."

"Thank you. Usually Blaine sings lead when we're performing with the Warblers, but at these things I get a chance too," Nick told him, while filling the cup he'd brought with water.

"You're in the Warblers?" Kurt asked, feeling stupid. Should he have known that?

"Well, yeah. I thought you saw the rehearsal? At least Blaine said you were there." Kurt looked to the floor.

"I was, but I didn't know that was the Warblers," he admitted, making Nick laugh.

"You just thought we were a bunch of guys doing a cappella outside of the club?"

"I don't know _what_ I thought," Kurt said, a little annoyed. He didn't like being made fun of, and he hardly knew Nick other than the introduction they'd shared over a month ago. "I need to get back to my aunt," he mumbled, making his way out of the bathroom.

"There you are! I ordered a coke for you, I hope that's okay," his aunt said as he sat down at their table. He watched Nick get back beside Blaine on the stage and started an interesting version of 'Sk8ter boi' with Nick singing lead. He had a nice voice, but Kurt couldn't help but fear that Blaine would spot him as he no longer sang. Again no worries were needed, because Blaine simply played the keyboard, backing up Nick with harmonies.

Kurt and his aunt had a nice evening, small talking about school, work and music as they both ate delicious lasagna. When Blaine and Nick thanked the crowd for listening and made their way off the stage and later out of the restaurant, Kurt's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"You've got to admit that this stuff is good," his aunt said putting another mouthful of garlic bread in her mouth. She offered him a piece, but he just wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I won't eat it, sorry. It would go straight to my hips," he told her, sipping on his coke. He hadn't told his aunt that he knew the guys that had been performing, because the truth was that he didn't. He only saw one of them as an acquaintance, and the other he knew from his nightmares. Nightmares. Nightmares where he would beg to wake up just to be free from feeling guilty.

"God, Kurt, you're so stubborn," his aunt sighed, still talking about the garlic bread, but Kurt suddenly froze. Maybe he _was_ too stubborn.

* * *

**Songs:**

**Teenage dream – Katy Perry**

**Sk8ter boi – Avril Lavigne**


	7. Oh darling

**A/N: **Hello, you all!

So, I was watching 'The New Rachel' and when it got to the scene with Kurt and Burt in the car, I was like "I killed that guy... I'm a terrible human being!" xD But aside from that I am so excited about the new season! Though I think I might cry like everyone else when the fourth episode comes out - how about you?

Anyway, back to Streets of Westerville. The song of the chapter is called 'Oh, darling' by Plug in Stereo (I imagine Kurt doing his part) and Cady Groves (and her part would be Blaine's). Is anyone even listening to the songs I recommend? It's fine if you don't, but maybe it gives something extra ;)

This chapter is again betaed by HailParadise, who made me think about some things, and hopefully the chapter makes a little more sense now xD So a super duper thanks to her.

Let me know what you think after reading :)

* * *

Chapter seven: Oh, Darling

**October 18.**

**Kurt**

If Kurt had gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, maybe he would have been able to keep awake in his chemistry class on Monday morning. The problem was, that every time he'd been close to sleep, he'd started thinking about a birthday party his family had thrown in his honor. It hadn't been anything special. His eighth birthday or something he figured. There had been cake, balloons, singing and of course gifts. He remembered getting a sewing kit from his mom, a gift he no longer had. Kurt would then wake up from his half-sleep and desperately try to make himself comfortable again, but every time he'd succeeded, the party had been in his head. A big smile from his dad. His aunt looking him up and down, telling him how much he'd grown. A squeeze from the grandmother, who'd later been sent to a nursing home in Canada. A wonderful cake with candles, blue frosting and little edible stars spread on the top.

"… you should be able to do both experiments today, though. If you need help, don't hesitate to ask," their chemistry teacher said before letting his students work on their assigned experiments. Kurt forced himself to look awake and started reading the list of materials needed.

"You want to be my partner?" a voice asked him, and Kurt looked up into big, brown eyes covered by a blonde bang. Had they met before?

"Um, sure," Kurt said, gesturing towards the chair across from him. The blonde guy smiled and sat down. "I'm Kurt," he started to introduce himself, fingers crossed that he hadn't done it already and forgotten about it. Luckily, the guy didn't look offended.

"Yes, I heard. I'm Jeff," the boy explained. No, surely Kurt hadn't met anyone named Jeff before. He sighed thankfully. "So, I'm not super good at chemistry, but I can get stuff!" Jeff exclaimed, making Kurt smile. He was sweet.

"Unfortunately I'm not that big of a scientist myself," he told him, since it was the truth.

Silently, they gathered things for the first experiment. Kurt was thankful that Jeff knew where everything was, since he still had difficulties remembering.

"So this thing goes where?" Jeff asked the teacher as he made his way by. The teacher grabbed the test tube, pointing it towards the hole of a plastic plug.

"Normally that's where it would go, but you're doing an experiment on galvanization, Mr. Sterling, not anything you would need a plug for," their teacher said with a sigh, pointing towards the list of materials.

"But it _said_…" Jeff insisted, but then read the text next to where his teacher was pointing on the paper. "Oh. Kurt, why didn't you say anything?" he accused, but Kurt only smirked.

"I wanted to see what you'd get out of a glass tube and a nail," he said, shrugging as if he wasn't to blame. Jeff groaned and started pulling the plug and tube apart.

"Thanks a lot," he said sarcastically, but Kurt could tell by his eyes that he wasn't mad. They ended up only having time for one of the assigned experiments, but other than a stern look from their teacher, they weren't punished for it. As they were cleaning up the test tubes Jeff suggested Kurt could join him and his friends at their lunch table. Kurt bit his lip, trying to come up with an excuse.

"I don't want to intrude," Kurt said, but even he could hear how lame his excuse was.

"If I thought you'd be intruding, I wouldn't have asked, would I?" Jeff said with a smile, tossing a tissue in the bin before putting down the last test tube. The other students who'd had chemistry had already left the room, so it was just the two of them in the big lab.

"I guess not," Kurt mumbled, biting his lip a little harder. "I can't though."

"Why not?" The blonde's expression was just too much. Kurt felt horrible for lying to him. He seemed so generally nice. Careless really.

"I have a doctor's appointment," he lied, but Jeff didn't look shot down at all.

"Then come tomorrow. Please? We've all seen you alone at your table, reading magazines. I feel horrible for not having asked sooner, but Nick said he'd already invited you, then I found out he asked you _on the first day of school_, and I just had to ask again," Jeff babbled, making pleading eyes at Kurt.

"So you're asking out of pity?" Kurt knew it was a low blow, because he didn't really feel offended by that. He'd just seen enough teenage movies, where people would be all about pride and not willing to accept charity. To a certain point he was that way too, but often he would act more upset than he actually was. And not being picky had sort of become his motto since March. If someone offered him something, the motive didn't really matter – he'd deny it either way.

"No! If I was doing it out of pity I would have asked you in the beginning of class. I wanted you to be my partner, because I would like to see who you were. I want to get to know you," Jeff claimed and yet again Kurt was taken by surprise. Guys didn't say stuff like that to another guy. Not straight guys at least.

"Can I ask you something?" Jeff nodded. "Is this… a gay school?" Jeff laughed. He actually laughed out loud, and Kurt felt like slapping himself. Why was he so stupid?

"Ehm no… Some of the students here are. Gay I mean. But just like any other school, most of us are straight. One of my best friends though is, so it's not like I have a problem with it. Being… gay that is," he got out, but his cheeks were burning, and suddenly they'd broken eye contact.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," Kurt said weakly, trying to get the chipper, welcoming guy from before back.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I'm not homophobic – really I'm not! I was just thrown off by the question," Jeff said and a silence spread between them. "But you're…?"

"Yes. Out and proud for about a year," Kurt said, but his voice was sad. He thought of how he the year before had stood before his father, coming out for the first time. It was in many ways a happy memory, but suddenly he felt the need to curl into a ball and cry his eyes out. His dad, who'd been his rock through all the shit thrown at him, was dead. Dead as in not living. As in gone forever. As in _not there_! Desperate to not break down in front of someone, he hurriedly tried to tell Jeff good bye and thank him for being his partner.

"So how about tomorrow? Please, just come and you'll meet my friends," Jeff practically begged. Kurt was frantically trying to hide his tearfilled eyes and didn't trust his voice to not break, if he tried coming up with another excuse. He nodded.

* * *

**October 19.**

**Blaine**

Nick had luckily kept to himself about the fact that Blaine was interested in Kurt Hummel. Blaine knew if he hadn't, Jeff wouldn't be telling them that he'd invited said guy to join them for lunch. Blaine had broken into a smile at the news, while Nick had adopted a look of shock.

"But he can't!" he'd burst out, making everyone at the table stare at him, Blaine especially.

"He can't? Why not?" David said obviously confused.

"We don't have a seat for him!" Nick said, but it was clear that a lack of chairs weren't the problem.

"We could always, you know, get another chair," Blaine spat at him, and then the boys were confused on the venom in Blaine's voice as well.

"He just can't sit here," Nick argued, crossing his arms.

"Why, Nick?" Wes questioned, making Blaine raise a challenging eyebrow, telling his friend to just tell the others. They were interrupted by a small clearing of a throat, and as they all looked to the noise, they were met by blue eyes belonging to no other than Kurt Hummel.

Three things happened next.

First, Blaine knocked over his chair, too eager to make a seat for Kurt, trying to both drag over another chair (placing it next to his own of course) and greet him at the same time. The result was a loud crash as the chair hit the linoleum floor.

Second Jeff stood to greet the newcomer with more success than his dapper friend. And finally third Nick began coughing. His friends were aware that it was a fake cough, but Kurt looked generally concerned. Nick grabbed Blaine's sleeve, and though he tried to get him to let go, Nick just kept his grip tight. Before Blaine knew it, he was dragged from the table by a still coughing Nick.

"What are you _doing_?!" Blaine hissed, as Nick finally let go. The coughing had of course stopped as soon as they were out of sight. "This is ridiculous," he breathed, turning away from his friend.

"I am doing you _a favor_ here, Blaine. You can't be around him," Nick explained with a impatient sigh. Blaine turned to face him again.

"_Why_ can't I be around him?" Blaine challenged, making Nick groan.

"Because you can't keep it simple. You like this guy, and that's even worse than when it's someone you don't like you're determined to fix. I see the look in his eyes. He's suffering, but it's _not_ your job to fix it!" Nick explained, making Blaine huff in frustration.

"Exactly – I like him. I should be allowed to be near him," he argued.

"No, you _don't_ like him! You're deprived from half a year of not being able to help people, and you're hungering for someone to care for. Kurt is obviously miserable and your radar just goes crazy, and you confuse that with romantic interest. You're not interested in him – you're interested in his pain," Nick said. Blaine froze. Surely that wasn't why he found him attractive. Was it? Blaine honestly didn't know. He'd had problems explaining to himself why he liked Kurt, since he'd only exchanged small talk with him. He'd never gotten something personal out of him. He didn't _know_ him at all. Could Nick be right?

Blaine hated being wrong, and though he knew it was childish, he couldn't get himself to admit that his friend might have a point. That's why he, instead of thinking about it further, spat a silly "You realize, you just contradicted yourself, right?"

"I do. Could you please just listen to what I have to say, Blaine? I'm thinking of the both of you, when I say you can't be around him." Blaine's brain was screaming at him to not let Nick win the disagreement, but no matter how many stupid arguments he made, he couldn't fight against not knowing who Kurt really was. All he knew about him was that he appreciated musicals and was having a rough time. Knowing himself he found Nick's explanation very likely.

"Fine," he mumbled, sighing. "I won't try to approach him further. He doesn't need someone crushing on him. He needs friends. We'll go have lunch with him and the rest of the guys and then I'll just... quit liking him and be any friend," he budged.

"I'm not sure you can handle just being friends, but I'll take whatever I can get right now. Come on." They made their way back to the table, where Wes, David, Jon, Jeff and Kurt were all sitting in what seemed like an semi awkward silence. As they sat down, Blaine chose Nick's seat between Jon and Wes instead of placing himself beside Kurt.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked Nick, who at first seemed like he didn't know what he was talking about, but then he remembered the coughing.

"Yeah, it was just a frog," he said with a smile and they all returned to eating.

"What's your next class?" Blaine broke the silence. The question was directed at Kurt, and he was clearly watching the pale boy, but it was Nick who answered him, rushing to get it out before the other had a chance to answer.

"Math. How about you Jeff?" The ball of conversation was then in Jeff's hands, and though he seemed confused on why Nick obviously disliked the new addition to the group so much, he answered the question.

"I'm in biology next, I think. Kurt?" Finally the question returned to the originally prompted person, but if Nick's rather rude distraction had worked, Kurt had forgotten who'd asked in the first place. Blaine was definitely disappointed by that, and found it hard to not confront Nick and his stupid overprotective mind. But he settled on just biting his lower lip before taking a sip of his water bottle.

"Social studies," Kurt responded, looking to the plate of food in front of him. "We have that curly haired guy with the big front teeth," he said with a hidden smile. Jeff laughed.

"Mr. Wood? I'm in one of his history classes. Does he throw chalk at people in your class too?" Jeff wondered and Kurt nodded. Blaine wasn't fully paying attention to the conversation. He was transfixed by the small smile tugging at Kurt's lip. He was sure he'd never seen _that_ before through his many studies of the junior. Was a simple kind gesture all it took to get him to smile? Blaine felt the guilt run through his stomach, and he was sure if his friends had had the same thoughts, they'd be feeling it too.

"So, I know Jeff's a junior. And Blaine's a sophomore. How about the rest of you?" Kurt asked while toying with his fork. Blaine felt a smile tug at his lips, when his name fell from Kurt's in his naturally high voice. His heart felt warmer, and his stomach clenched just the tiniest bit.

"I'm a senior," Wes told him, before taking turns pointing at his friends. "David, Nick and Jon are all sophomores." Kurt nodded, looking as if he was thinking hard about something.

"It's great that you're all friends in spite of being older and younger than each other," he said, quickly, bringing his water bottle to his lips.

"I guess. We're all in the Warblers, and that's kind of how we found each other. It wasn't like that at your old school?" David questioned.

"It was," Kurt said with a forced smile. "I was in glee club too, and we were all just friends, age be damned," he explained. Blaine's heart skipped a beat, but he tried to not let it show too much.

"You sing?" he asked, trying to sound casual, though inside he was jumping up and down like a five year old having won a giant teddy bear at the fair.

"I do," Kurt simply replied, and Blaine couldn't help but feel annoyed that he wasn't even looking at him. Was Blaine just a part of the crowd for Kurt? It hurt to think it was even an option.

"You should join the Warblers then," Wes prompted, shrugging. They had enough members to compete already, so it wasn't like they _needed_ new members. But because the Warblers was such a simple group, only concentrating on the music and not fancy choreography or expensive costumes, they had more money for transportation and stuff for the members. Having Kurt join wouldn't be a problem. He'd have to audition of course, but everyone with talent or 'spark' got in, and Blaine wasn't worried that Kurt wouldn't make the cut. He'd been in glee at his old school – he had to be at least decent!

"Perhaps," was all Kurt offered them, and the silence from before reappeared. Blaine bit his lip. Jeff tried picking up another conversation about homework and school, but it was as if Kurt wasn't even there anymore. His body was placed on the uncomfortable, blue plastic chair, while his mind was far away. Blaine had never wished to be a mind reader so badly as through that lunch break. Had he and his friends made lunch worse or better for Kurt? As they left the cafeteria, Wes and Nick talking animatedly about baseball, Blaine still couldn't figure out, if the small furrow in Kurt's perfectly shaped eyebrows was one of misery or one of disbelief.

* * *

**October 30.**

**Blaine**

"I'm home," Blaine called as he opened the door to his parents' house. Because that was what it was; his parents' house. He wasn't home. Home was at Dalton. At least through the school year it was. If his family had been different, he probably would have been one of the homesick boys for the first couple of weeks back in school, but as he made his way through the front door, throwing his satchel in the hallway, it didn't feel like coming home at all.

"We're in the kitchen, honey," his mom called, prompting him to come join them. "Welcome home," she smiled as he stood in the doorway. He felt like puking, seeing his parents standing there in front of the sink washing vegetables meant for their dinner. The scene looked as if it was taken out of a magazine. Like a picture of one of those super healthy, tight families they often showed on TV.

"Thanks," he mumbled, trying his best to not establish eye contact with his father, who just stood there in his baby-blue checkered apron with a suspicious glare. He felt like the dog who peed on the carpet. Basically that was how he felt every time he visited.

"Where have you been all afternoon?" his father asked in a voice telling Blaine he wasn't pleased.

"I was studying in the library," Blaine told him, grabbing a knife to help his mom cut tomatoes for the salad. Actually he hadn't read a single line in the book he'd planned to read. Sure, he'd entered the library with the intentions of studying, but then he'd seen Kurt Hummel in the furthest corner reading a copy of Ellen Degeneres' book 'My point and I do have one'. He'd promised Nick that we wouldn't approach Kurt, but Blaine had convinced himself that just looking at him wouldn't hurt anyone. So he'd spend an hour and a half watching the boy read in silence. Apparently Kurt thought the book was funny, and at times he'd let the softest of smiles grace his face. Blaine had found himself sighing like a lovesick puppy every time that had happened.

"With who?" his father demanded accusingly. Blaine was caught off guard by the edge in his voice.

"What? Nobody. I was alone," he insisted, but it seemed as if his father had already made up his mind, as he so often did.

"Why am I having a difficult time believing that, Blaine?" he asked, turning off the water before putting down the carrots for his wife to cut on the chopping board.

"I don't know. I'm telling you, I was alone," Blaine said, cutting a tomato in half.

"Oh not like that, sweetie. See if you cut it in fourths it looks better," his mother suddenly interrupted. She looked like it was psychically hurting her to not just snap the knife out of his hands. Blaine had had enough. He threw the knife on the board, meeting his father's eyes.

"Forget it," he spat, heading out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He didn't get very far before his father was shouting at him to not take another step. But for once Blaine didn't obey his father.

For others, continuing until they got to the stairs, and thereby defying their parents, wouldn't be abnormal, but for Blaine it was a huge step in becoming independent. He knew his friends were right, when they called him a push over, and perhaps those months of not handing out himself and his time had in some ways helped him to take the first steps up those stairs. He let out a disbelieving breath as he took another step. Before he knew it, he was running to get to his room.

"Blaine!" his mother called after him, but as he made it through the door, he slammed it carefully after himself, letting out a surprised laugh. He'd done it. Actually stepped up for himself – literally.

As he tried to not just freak out and jump up and down in victory, he thought of something. What his friends had done for him had actually helped. Not being able to say yes, had in the end provided him with the option of saying no to his dad. What if he kept it up... Could he some day be able to walk further than his own room? Could he possibly walk out that door and never return?

"Blaine, open that door," his father thundered, knocking furiously on the wooden door, which made Blaine jump in surprise. He felt the ever returning feeling of submission overwhelm him, and his fingers started itching to obey and just open the goddamn door. But he didn't want to.

And not wanting to had to be the key to not doing it. Blaine just had to give it time. Time is fertilizer to make the crop of independence grow. And though he didn't like it, he had a feeling he knew how to start.

* * *

**November 6.**

**Kurt**

"_And now for our second performance of the program, from Dalton Academy in Westerville – the Warblers_," the male voice on the speakers announced, making Kurt sit a little straighter in his plushy deep red chair.

Though he wasn't there for the Dalton boys, he still felt a little proud when he heard the unmistakeable sound of the a cappella group and then Blaine's voice coming from somewhere in the middle of it all, singing the lyrics of another recent pop song.

He recognized Jeff standing next to Blaine, Nick was in the back row with Jon standing next to him, while both David and Wes were in the front row, pointing and dancing with Blaine.

"_And so I wouldn't let you blow my mind. Hey soul sister_," he sang, and Kurt got his program up to hide the smile tugging at his lips. Blaine really did look silly when he sang. But at the same time he found it oddly cute how Blaine's eyebrows would place themselves to practically form a threesome of hair in the middle of his face. His lips were forming the words of the song, but at the same time, Kurt could see the ever present smile curl every time Blaine wasn't singing.

It was as if the song was tuned down a little, like they couldn't quite keep up the beat of the original, and though Kurt was all about the elegance of simplicity, he found the choreography both boring and a little... awkward. They were jumping around on the stage in that same formation through most of the song. But then Kurt noticed something. He still liked the performance. Though they were stiff and a little awkward to look at, it didn't matter. He was captured by how raw the performance was. He'd seen all of those boys in those exact outfits running in the halls of Dalton. It was a pure, not very staged performance – and he liked it.

The Warblers finished on stage, and as they made it backstage, Kurt was torn between going to the green room of the New Directions or the one of the Warblers. He decided to do neither, and just stayed in his seat till the announcer presented the next group.

"_And now for our final performance, from McKinley high – the New Directions_." Kurt heard people turning in their seats and followed their example to see a guy surrounded by a spotlight, looking through the crowd with a smile on his face. It was the smile that gave him away. The guy had to be Sam, who Mercedes had been talking about. That mouth was enormous!

Kurt felt like curling up in his seat, but decided to be an adult about it all and just appreciate the nice voice that came with the boy. Suddenly his attention was led to Quinn and her beautiful voice, as she made her way into the room in a white and gray dress. Kurt couldn't help but smile, when he realized it had to be her first competition without a specially made dress to contain her pregnant stomach.

But one thing was puzzling him though. Where were Finn and Rachel? Was it really possible that someone else had gotten a duet in a competition? But true it was; as the curtain rose and the rest of the club was shown dancing behind the couple, he noticed both Rachel and Finn were there, dancing as if they were just two other members of the group and not the power couple.

It felt good seeing his friends having a good time, but at the same time, when he saw Mercedes exchange a happy smile with Artie, he felt empty inside. He should have been able to perform with them and not just watch from a seat in the crowd.

The group switched to another song, and after a moment he recognized Santana's voice singing the lyrics of the iconic song 'Valarie' with her devilish charm. In front of her Mike and Brittany were dancing like professionals, and Kurt had to give them bonus points for showing off the two amazing dancers. He was so thrilled to see his friends being equals on the stage and all having their time to shine. His heart still ached for Mercedes and Tina though, who still hadn't gotten solos. Everyone couldn't all be stars in four minutes, he guessed.

After it was announced that the New Directions and the Warblers had tied, Kurt got up to go find his friends backstage. When he made it into what had been their green room, he saw Rachel and Finn in a corner, talking seriously and he guessed there had been another drama he'd missed. "Congratulations to all of you," he said from the doorway, and suddenly he was embraced by Tina who'd flung herself at his neck, squealing in delight.

"It's so good to see you!" she laughed and Kurt smiled into her neck as he hugged her back. Then everyone's attention was on him (except for the couple in the corner, who remained concentrated on their discussion), and he was being hugged from every side. Even Santana made her way over to put her arms around him.

"Even though I'm enjoying the fresh air, that you leaving along with your hair spray provides me with, I do miss you," she insisted, rolling her eyes before stepping back to let Mercedes hug her friend.

"Hey," was all she said before they shared a hug. The two talked regularly on the phone, so it wasn't like they missed each other _that _much. At least Kurt didn't. He missed the group as a whole more.

"Kurt!" Rachel had cut her conversation with Finn short, and was on her way to hug him too.

"Can I talk to you for a bit?" she said, gesturing toward the hallway. He nodded, still suspicious of her. What was she up to?

"It's just... I want to apologize," she said, when they were alone. Kurt's eyes widened.

"For what?" he got out, still not quite believing his own ears.

"For not being supportive. I know I've bragged about how great glee club is, but after you left, I realized that you were partially right. We were no family. We're getting better though, and I really don't want to have been the one to have denied you membership of this new more connected group. I'm sorry about what I said before you transferred. People often remind me to think before I speak, and what I said that day I probably should have though more about, and it came out wrong. I just..." she stopped to think for a second before continuing. "I wish you happiness, Kurt. That's what I've always wanted – even back then. The truth is that I felt sort of threatened by you," she admitted.

"Why couldn't you say this back when we were at the same school?" he asked her softly. They'd been absolutely horrible towards each other. He was the first to admit that he hadn't been completely fair towards her, but it had mostly been her attitude that had kept him away from her, and he supposed she felt the same.

"I think it was because you were always the biggest competition I had," she said with a wry smile, eyes shining with regret. "Can you forgive me? I'd like for us to be friends," she said, shortly breaking eye contact to stare at her shoes before returning to glance at his blue eyes. Kurt didn't know what to say. Could they be friends?

"I'd be willing to try," he finally told her, and she nodded. She understood.

"Of course. I really am sorry, Kurt."

"I'm not going to say it's okay, but I know some of the things I've done to you haven't been either. Like what I did with your Celine Dion CD," he admitted, toying with the sleeve of his shirt.

"_What_?"

"You didn't know about that? Sorry," he weakly apologized. She shook her head.

"Guess today really is 'let's tell Rachel everything'-day after all... Anyway, how about we try to wipe the board clean? A new beginning," she suggested and he nodded.

"I'd very much like that."

* * *

**November 8.**

**Blaine**

"What's that for?" Blaine asked, pointing towards the small device on the table in front of them.

"It's just a recorder. I'll use it for when I'm writing later. Makes the quotes more accurate," Stephan explained to him with a smile. Blaine had never been interviewed for the school paper – or any paper really – before, and he had to admit he was a little nervous.

"Okay, just to get it straight. Sectionals is one out of how many competitions?" Stephan asked, getting comfortable in the chair. They were in one of Dalton's many common rooms, but they'd borrowed one of the teacher's keys to lock the door, as to not be disturbed during the interview.

"It's the first of three. However if you don't make it past sectionals, you don't gain access to regionals nor nationals," he explained, crossing his legs. He felt a little uncomfortable, since the guy before him was a senior and he'd only spoken to him one other time in the year he'd been at Dalton. But just because he felt uncomfortable didn't mean he would show it.

"All right. But you _made_ it past sectionals this year. You tied with on of the other groups, am I right?"

"Yes, that's right. The New Directions," he told him. Stephan chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I thought you said something else," he apologized.

"Yeah, people always seem to hear the words 'nude erections' instead," Blaine said with a smile.

"Apparently. Anyway, how did it feel to know you'd tied?" Stephan asked, getting them back on track. Blaine though about it for a moment.

"Good. It felt good. We're happy as long as we get to go again. Having another team, and especially one as talented as the New Directions, will of course be challenging, but we will definitely step it up at regionals to beat them," he said with a small laugh at the end. Was that diplomatic enough? Did it show team spirit?

"That sounds like you have a plan for the competition in February. Anything you can reveal to us?"

"I'm sorry, if I did, the council would probably kick me out of the group," he joked.

"People doubt that will ever happen. They rely a lot on you during competitions don't they? You actually had both solos just this Saturday."

"The council decides who gets the solos," Blaine defended himself, but he made it sound like a simple statement.

"But you only transferred here a year ago, Blaine. How did the Warblers get by without your voice?" Stephan asked playfully. Blaine chuckled.

"I've been here a year on the 26th. Before I joined someone else got the solos. I can't really account for how things were before I transferred," he said, forcing a smile.

"Of course," Stephan agreed, shuffling through his notes. "Let's see... Now that the Warblers are qualified for regionals, is it still possible for students to join? Or is it too late?"

"It's absolutely not too late! People are more than welcome to join. We have the members required to compete, but we still enjoy new faces. So anyone who wants to be a part of the group should definitely audition," Blaine said, for the first time feeling like he was talking for the group and not just himself. Wes had assured him that their budget could handle more members, and it felt so good to be able to promote their wonderful club.

"Fantastic. What do you know about regionals at this point?"

"Only that we're going to win," Blaine chuckled confidently.

* * *

**November 13.**

**Kurt**

"This is really good," Katherine complimented, as she put another mouthful of spaghetti in her mouth. Kurt looked up from his plate and tentatively smiled at her.

"Thank you." Saturday nights were always a little awkward, because neither of them really had anything to say to the other and nowhere to be. Monday-Friday were filled with school, work and homework for both of them, and the few hours they were required to spend together, they mostly spent getting ready for something else. Saturdays and Sundays were always unbelievably quiet. Though his aunt had cut down on the hours she spent at an office downtown, where she was working until she was able to pass the bar exam in the spring, they still hadn't become what people would call close. Kurt had once or twice asked her opinion on something of significance, but he felt better just making the decisions himself without consulting her. That way they stayed in a stage of 'friendly roommates' without really progressing towards friends.

"You're not going to Lima tomorrow, are you?" she asked. Kurt shook his head.

"I was there just last weekend. Sectionals were on Saturday, and I stayed at Mercedes' until Sunday. I thought I'd give her family some time off from having me living with them this weekend though," he explained. She nodded. She'd never actually met any of his friends. Though she'd promised they could arrange for some of them to come and visit him, Kurt hadn't really wanted his friends to know of his life in Westerville. He rarely spoke of the time he spent with his aunt, and, if he could help it, he didn't talk much of Dalton either. He stayed a student at McKinley in his heart, and though his friends were prompting him to let go and just adapt, Kurt just couldn't do it. He missed his old school. He missed a place to call home. But, most of all, he missed people to call home.

"How about next weekend then?"

"I don't think so. There's a thing at Dalton in benefit of some of their clubs next weekend. They've been gathering stuff for a tag sale, and I saw a wardrobe that looked like the one in Maria's room at the Von Trapp's house which I just have to get my hands on," he explained.

"You need _more_ room for clothes? Don't you already have a closet and two dressers?" she pointed out, eyes wide, as if she thought he was crazy.

"I do, but this is not about needing the space – though I will have no problems filling it – it's about having a piece that looks so much like something that had Julie Andrews clothes in it," he said.

"I don't think I understand, but it's great if you're finally getting somewhere with that room," she told him. She'd promised him they'd figure something out about his room, but every time she'd suggested something, Kurt had shot the idea down, which resolved in the project still being unfinished. She'd even suggested he could hire someone professional to do it, but that had ended in him not talking to her for about half a day. Sometimes she asked herself, what on earth she had gotten herself into taking on Kurt Hummel. He was even more stubborn than her sister had been, and that was saying something. She guessed it was a result of the phrase Burt had always filled the boy's head with. 'No one pushes the Hummel's around' had been his motto. Katherine had never thought it to be healthy for a young boy to hear such words – what if Kurt had become the bully himself? And Burt hadn't even been a born Hummel. He didn't even take the name when he and her sister married. And the stubborn Elizabeth had of course refused to take his name. It was only after she died that Burt suddenly wanted the name. 'As a reminder of my wife' he'd said before changing both his own and Kurt's last name to match his dead wife's. Katherine had found it silly at the time, but had to admit, when visiting the family's cemetery plot, it looked nice with two Hummels on the headstone.

"When is it?" she asked him.

"Orh, I can't remember," he sighed, getting up from his chair. As he returned, he had the school paper in his hands, reading a page with the headline 'Dalton Events'. "It's at noon on Saturday," he told her.

"Okay. Maybe I'll go too," she said and a silence spread at the table. Uncomfortable silence wasn't something new in the apartment. You'd think that silence would get less awkward the more of it there was, but not for them.

Kurt's aunt concentrated on eating, while Kurt flipped through the pages of the school's news paper. Most of it was just crappy journalism. He remembered Jacob Ben Israel at McKinley who'd used every opportunity to humiliate the student body through his blog. Luckily, Dalton didn't have a blogger writing down every embarrassing moment someone would put themselves in. Being a prep school where a simple flier about an event wasn't fancy enough, the school set money aside for students to create a news paper. Dalton Nunc it was called.

Kurt then flipped to a page where a black and white photo of the Warblers was surrounded by about four columns of text. Next to the picture of the group was a picture of Blaine Anderson, smiling with gelled down hair. His eyes were slightly squinted and it looked like his cheeks would be hurting from how widely he was grinning. Kurt couldn't help but let out a small breath, he didn't realize he'd been holding.

The article was, of course, about the Warblers. At first Kurt only read the parts highlighted in a faint blue, but before he knew it, he was sitting there at the dinner table, quietly trying to imagine Blaine's voice pronounce the quotes. Was that creepy? He didn't really care.

"I'll just go clean this up," his aunt said, gathering their plates and glasses, leaving the room. Kurt lifted his feet to rest on the chair next to him, absentmindedly biting the skin around his thumbnail while still reading.

After a while he got up and headed to his room. He drew his pencil case from his bag, getting out scissors before placing both the Dalton Nunc and himself of the floor. The sound of cars driving by outside filled the room, along with the soft light from a lamppost just outside his window, as he carefully cut out the picture of all the Warblers in the photo. Though the boys were all in black and white and not the typical blue and red blazer, he still felt the team spirit oozing off the picture. Kurt smiled to himself. He knew six of those boys, and they deserved a place on his wall too, but as he made his way towards the large splotch where he'd hung pictures of his friends and family, he suddenly regretted his decision. He didn't _know_ them. He really didn't. So instead of being placed in between pictures of Rachel and Finn making goo goo eyes at each other and Kurt eating ice cream with his dad, the picture of the prep school boys ended up in the trash.

* * *

**Songs: **

**Hey, soul sister - Train**


	8. Be calm

**A/N: **Hey everyone :)

A guest signed MillieB reviewed last chapter, and I would really like to let her know, she's not being ignored, because what she pointed out is actually something I've thought a lot about. I know I've written Blaine's friends (Nick especially) to be really controlling and you can find it hard to figure out why Blaine's even friends with them. It's just... OK, in my head these boys picked Blaine up, when he came to Dalton in November his freshman year, and they became what Blaine was to Kurt in canon - a mentor. Blaine really has a problem in not being able to say no to people, and I think Nick is really just trying to help. He just does it the wrong way. SPOILOR. I can assure you that Blaine will not just go along with it though. He will at some point "blow up" and stand up for himself. I also want you to remember the episode 'Michael' where all of the Warblers were kind of fine with hurting Kurt/Blaine during 'Bad'. It's also pointed out that they are acting really strange when you think about the fact that they were Blaine's best friends not half a year back. Anyway! I appreciated your review, and I hope that was enough explanation :)

The song of this chapter is AMAZING! It's 'Be calm' by fun.. The chapter is betaed by HailParadise, who once again has really got me thinking, and I like to think that the results of those thoughts are making this story a lot better!

Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Chapter eight: Be calm

**November 19.**

**Kurt**

Kurt always made sure to be the first to leave the classroom after his last class. That way he never got asked if he wanted to tag along to some stupid event or gathering. Dalton boys had a tradition of meeting up Friday afternoons at someone's house to hang out.

He tried his best to avoid invitations of any sort, and that was what brought him to the hallway ten minutes before the last class of the week ended. He'd faked a stomach ache to get excused, and since the day was so close to being over, his teacher had just sent him home instead of sending him to see the nurse. For that Kurt was thankful – he just wanted to go home.

Calling his aunt's apartment 'home', was a new thing to him. He'd sworn it would never feel like the home he'd had in Lima, and he was right. It wasn't like his father's home. It was a new kind of home. It didn't feel like the the absolute sanctuary he'd had in Lima, but it felt... safe. Sometime in the three months he'd lived there, he'd gotten used to it being his sacred place to go to. He couldn't count the hours he'd spent in his room. He was still stuck on ideas for decorating, but just being in there was something too. He liked playing with thoughts of how it would end up looking. All over, samples of paint had been smeared onto the walls. He just couldn't decide; but for once it didn't really matter. He'd accepted that the apartment would be his home until he moved for New York, and to his surprise, it felt okay resigning.

As Kurt made his way around a corner, he bumped into someone who was walking in the other direction. A blur of papers dropping to the floor and a navy colored blazer flashed before Kurt's eyes, and at the same time he felt someone's body press heavily against his own.

"Oh my God – I'm so sorry!" Blaine apologized, reaching as if to steady Kurt, but without actually touching his arms. His mouth had dropped slightly open and Kurt had to take a step back from Blaine's intense expression.

"It's fine. I'm fine. I'm sorry," Kurt babbled, toying with the strap of his bag. He needed to get going to avoid the other students. He didn't like the idea of saying goodbye though. Then he remembered the papers that had been scattered all over, and immediately dropped to the floor to help pick them up.

"You don't have to do that," Blaine assured him as he started collecting his things as well.

"I _was _the one knocking it all out of your arms though," he argued, smiling shyly at Blaine.

"Thank you," Blaine said when Kurt handed him his share of the lost papers. Their eyes met before they both stood again. "I should get going."

"What? Oh. Yes, I should too," Kurt stated, but he didn't mean it. He would really like for Blaine to not go...

"I'll see you Monday then," Blaine said, smiling softly before walking away. Kurt spun around to see him disappear around the same corner he'd rounded himself just minutes back. He wanted to talk more. Why did he just walk away? Hadn't Blaine been the one insisting to talk that day Kurt had been crying? He wanted to make it up to him. Have the conversation they never got that day. Perhaps he was feeling guilty like Dr. Pacer had said, but as he watched Blaine disappear, Kurt didn't care who thought what about who – he just really didn't want Blaine to go.

_This is stupid_, he thought, but his feet apparently disagreed and started following the dark haired boy down the corridors. He was doing his best to be quiet. After all, Blaine had rejected having a conversation with him, and Kurt really couldn't afford being caught sneaking behind him. His pride wouldn't be able to take it.

Blaine started making his way down the stairs of Dalton's main building. Kurt always got confused about which floor he was. He still felt like the new kid, and his sense of direction had never been one to brag about.

Blaine turned to walk down the corridors of the second floor, which confused Kurt. What did he need on the second floor? No exit was up there. Blaine had a determined walk though – he wasn't just strolling, but really seemed to have somewhere to go. Kurt followed, and though he tried to convince himself that he was merely walking the same way, he felt like a creepy stalker, hiding behind plants and pillars.

They turned a corner and made it into one of the many common rooms. No one was in there, since classes hadn't ended yet, which made Kurt wonder why Blaine wasn't in class. Was Blaine skipping like Kurt himself was? They didn't stop in the common rooms though. Blaine continued through a door and into yet another corridor. If Kurt were to suddenly deem following a guy around campus silly, he would be in huge trouble, because he wouldn't be able to find his way back by himself anymore. Luckily, he hadn't had enough of stalking and continued through yet another door and another pair of stairs. They were walking up again.

Blaine turned, and suddenly Kurt froze. He knew where they were. _Of course_, he thought as he watched Blaine walk away. They were in a part of Dalton Kurt had almost forgotten about. When he'd been shown around by a friendly guy in his English class in his first week at Dalton, he'd told him to not bother showing him that part of the school. He'd told him that he wasn't even considering spending time in the place he found himself now. The dorms.

Apparently Blaine boarded at Dalton, or was comfortable enough with someone to just walk into their room, because he dug out a key and let himself into one of the many doors on the left side of the hall. Kurt heard the door shut behind him, and then everything went quiet.

He looked at his phone to see only two minutes were left of classes. What should he do? He wasn't sure he'd be able to find his way back by himself. Should he try anyway? Why had he even followed Blaine up here in the first place?

Kurt groaned, and heard the sound of laughter from the stairs he'd just been walking up seconds before. Had life been as in the movies, he probably would had tried to hide in one of the heavy curtains. But he wasn't in a movie. He was Kurt Hummel. Even though he had become more quiet over the past six months, he was still a diva at heart. That was probably what led him to place himself _on_ the couch instead of under it. When a group of boys walked through the door, laughing and chatting, Kurt simply got out his phone, pretending to be occupied. The boys just walked past him, and Kurt felt like throwing a fist in the air for succeeding at blending in. He always sucked at that part.

"Kurt?" a voice suddenly asked, and he spun to see Jeff standing in the doorway looking at him with a confused smile on his face. He'd been so busy making sure to not be noticed by the group that he'd forgotten more students were likely to join them in a matter of minutes. "What are you doing here?"

Kurt bit his bottom lip. What should he say? Was he lost? No, he had no reason to even be in that part of the school, and getting lost was just stupid. Then what?!

"I wanted to see what the dorms looked like," he heard himself say. _That's an even worse excuse than being lost_, he angrily thought. Jeff just smiled.

"Really? Are you considering rooming?" he asked, walking closer to the couch as to not block the door, as more students in blue blazers walked through, talking animatedly.

"Maybe." He wasn't.

"Cool. I can show you my room, if you want," he offered, and Kurt felt his heart warm. Jeff really was a nice guy. He accepted the offer and together they made their way towards Jeff's room. Kurt feared for a moment that Jeff might be rooming with Blaine, but when Jeff dug his key out and started unlocking a door, it was to a room on the right side of the hall.

Jeff held the door open for him, switching the light on as they both got in the room. It was bigger than what Kurt had imagined. He had thought the dorm rooms to be tiny, but as he looked around he saw a desk big enough for at least three people, two sets of bunk beds and three decent sized dressers that fit without any problems. All furniture had been pushed against the light blue painted walls, which left plenty of room for the two bean bags that were dropped in the middle of the room.

"How many live in here?" Kurt asked, not able to tear his eyes away from the giant bulletin board they'd hung on the wall, filled with pictures, notes, tickets and other stuff the guys living there had found either funny or important.

"We're three at the moment, but there's actually room for one more. Perhaps that will be your bed," Jeff said with a smile, placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt froze, waiting for the rejection his body would show Jeff, but after five seconds of nothing Jeff had to remove his hand himself. Kurt was stunned. He hadn't felt like pulling away...

"Jeff? Have you seen my iPod?" The feeling of victory Kurt had felt for not wanting to avoid Jeff's touch disappeared the second he recognized Blaine's voice calling for the blonde. When Blaine made it into the room, he just stood there, staring. "Hello."

"Hi," Kurt replied, determined to make it sound natural that he was in Jeff's room on a Friday afternoon and not in his car, driving as fast as possible without breaking the speed limit to get home. Blaine's face broke into a smile.

"I thought you left," he said, but his words were not accusing. Just curious.

"I didn't," Kurt simply responded, breaking eye contact.

"Obviously," Blaine chuckled before turning to Jeff. "I think I forgot my iPod somewhere. Is it in here?" Jeff shook his head.

"At least I don't think so," he said, looking around as if it would magically just show itself.

"All right. Maybe in Wes' room," Blaine murmured, but he didn't leave. He smiled again, making Kurt's lips tug to return it.

"Kurt's considering signing up for a dorm room," Jeff then blurred and Kurt's eyes widened.

"I- I'm just weighing my options," he lied, a little too eagerly.

"Rooming here is great. Some of us are here because home isn't a very nice place or because we live far away, but many are here because it gives you friends for life," Jeff explained, once again placing his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"So what are your reasons for rooming?" Kurt asked, this time pulling away from Jeff's hand. Somehow it felt different when someone else was in the room. It was as if Blaine's eyes were solely focusing on where Kurt and Jeff were connected. But of course that was just Kurt's imagination – right?

"I have five siblings and a sixth on the way," Jeff simply said, not finding it necessary to elaborate further.

"That's a bad thing?" Kurt questioned, and from the look on the blonde's face the answer was clearly affirmative. Blaine laughed.

"Jeff doesn't like sharing. He was an only child for ten years and still hasn't gotten used to not being number one in mommy's eyes," he teased, earning a slap to the back of his head. Kurt bit his lip, trying to hide a smile.

"How about you, Blaine?" he asked.

"Old fashioned father," Blaine said, choosing to use even less words than his friend. He was smiling kindly though. Kurt felt his stomach tighten at the mention of a father. He'd give anything to have his back. "So what's your situation?"

"What?" Kurt asked, stunned.

"Your situation," Blaine repeated. Kurt's throat closed itself, and when he tried to open his mouth, nothing came out.

"Look, you don't have to answer, if you don't want to," Jeff said, offering Kurt a way out. He chose to stay silent. "Do you want to join us at lunch tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday, Jeff," Kurt weakly argued.

"Right. Monday then," Jeff said with a hopeful smile. Blaine had gone silent, but Kurt could almost see how hard he was thinking. _What _was on the lead singer's mind he didn't know though.

"My lunch hour is after fourth period," Kurt said.

"Mine too. Though I don't think Blaine's is," Jeff said, looking to Blaine.

"It is," Blaine hurriedly said.

"But Nick said he-" Jeff was cut off by a look from Blaine.

"It's not my fault Nick can't remember our schedule," he said with a smile. Though his words were meant for Jeff, his eyes didn't leave Kurt's once. Kurt felt how tiny butterflies were caressing the insides of his stomach.

"I'll see you both Monday then," he said softly, smiling at Blaine's happy expression.

* * *

**November 23.**

**Blaine**

"Hey Jeff," Blaine called, running to catch his friend in the hall. Jeff turned, smiling as he saw Blaine.

"Hey," he greeted him. The two fell into a slow walk. Fourth period had just ended, and it was time for them to go meet Kurt at lunch. Blaine had been lying when he'd told Jeff his lunch hour was at the same time as the juniors'. Nick was probably wondering why he wasn't in their shared math class at that very moment. He was skipping class to have lunch with Kurt. He knew he only had limited opportunities to talk freely with him without having Nick there, so skipping math was a small sacrifice if he could learn more about the wonder that was Kurt. But because of these few chances, Blaine wasn't done lying.

"I ran into the guidance counselor this morning. She told me, she would be able to squeeze your appointment into her lunch break today if you hurry," Blaine lied, not a trace of hesitation in his voice. Jeff stopped.

"Seriously? I've tried to get that appointment for nearly a week now," he said, smile tugging at his lips. Blaine almost felt bad for lying to him. Jeff didn't deserve it. But the image of him and Kurt alone at a lunch table was just too good to give up. He had to get rid of Jeff.

"I know. She said someone canceled," he told him. Jeff then looked curious.

"Why did she tell you though? What if I hadn't wanted anyone to know about the appointment," Jeff questioned and Blaine felt his heart pounding faster, faster. What could he say?

"She thought I was you," he heard himself say. _Genius_, he thought, mentally dancing in victory.

"Why would she think that?" Jeff said, but it sounded like he bought Blaine's explanation.

"Yeah, she walked right up to me, called me Jeff Sterling before telling me she had an opening in her schedule for me," Blaine said, trying to just laugh his way through the situation.

"But we look nothing alike," Jeff pointed out, but again it was just a statement and complaining about the counselor and not signs of him not believing Blaine. Because really – why shouldn't he?

"Maybe it was the eyes," Blaine said, shrugging. They both had brown eyes, though Jeff's were greener.

"Maybe," Jeff said, then suddenly he seemed to remember something. "But we're suppose to have lunch with Kurt."

"Don't worry about it. I'm still free. I'll find him," Blaine assured him before ushering him to just go find the guidance counselor. He'd actually heard she'd moved to another office, so Jeff was probably going to be distracted for a long time, while Blaine would try and get closer to Kurt Hummel. He couldn't stop smiling at the thought. After lunch they would definitely be one step closer to being friends. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty though. He was disobeying his friends by going after Kurt. Nick had pulled him aside, told him to _not_ go near the forbidden fruit, and yet there Blaine was, polishing the apple before taking a bite.

But as he walked into the dining hall and saw Kurt and his cute pile of fabric samples and tray of barely touched food, all thoughts of rights and wrongs went out the window. After buying his lunch, he placed his tray next to Kurt's without even hesitating or waiting for an invitation.

"Hey, you," he said with a smile, pulling Kurt away from the magazine he'd been reading.

"Hey," he was greeted tiredly, but with a small smile. Kurt moved his bag closer to himself and Blaine chose to believe it meant for him to come a little closer. Kurt didn't scoot away when he did, so he counted the move as a success.

"Jeff had to run for a last minute appointment," Blaine said, taking a bite of the pizza slice he'd bought. He then looked to Kurt's healthy looking pasta dish.

"How about the rest of your gang?" Kurt questioned, pushing his magazine away, as if to make it clear they were to talk and not just sit together.

"Wes is still in class, I think. Jon's probably skipping – he mostly is. David's home sick and Nick... I don't know. He must have had homework or something." _A wild guess would be that he's in class waiting for me_, he added in his thoughts. Kurt didn't need to know that part. "So it's just you and me."

"I think we'll make it work," was Kurt's soft response followed by the sweetest of smiles. Blaine felt his stomach flip. It was just too good to be true. Was Kurt flirting?

"Indeed. So what were you reading?" Kurt didn't even look to his magazine.

"I wasn't really reading it. You know those things you buy just to look a certain way?" Oh, Blaine knew purchases like that. An example would be the countless simple t-shirts hanging untouched in his closet. They were only there so that his dad would stop complaining about him wearing 'flashy' clothes on the weekends. He nodded.

As a response Kurt simply held up the magazine for Blaine to read the title. Luxury Auto Direct. Blaine couldn't help but laugh. Luckily, Kurt didn't look offended.

"You're not into cars?"

"Oh, I am. Being the son of a mechanic it was never really a question if I liked cars. I grew up in oil stains and pink overalls. I'm the perfect example to prove that no matter how much 'guy-stuff' a boy is set to do, he can turn out gay anyway," Kurt said with a shrug. Though Blaine knew from Jeff about Kurt's sexuality, having him confirm it in person was just a tad better. It meant that Kurt _wanted _him to know about it.

"Maybe your dad would be willing to pass his knowledge to my dad. Mine just can't wrap his mind around the fact that I'm gay," Blaine said a little bitterly. He didn't even notice the way Kurt winced at the mention of his father.

"Perhaps," he mumbled, digging into his food. "So your dad's an idiot?"

"Kind of. It's a bit complicated though. I don't want to bore you," Blaine answered, taking another bite. Kurt just put his fork down and smiled, as if he knew what Blaine was going through. He probably didn't though. No one really did. Because sure, gays experienced nonsupporting parents all the time, but Blaine always considered his case a little more twisted than others. His father never called him names, never disowned him, never told him to grow out of it, never hit him or anything like that. To outsiders he just looked distant. And no one would take pity on him, knowing how little his dad actually expressed his opinions of Blaine. But it was the invisible part that drove Blaine crazy. He was walking on eggshells as soon as he stepped over the doorstep into his house.

Because even though his father never voiced his disgust, he was playing with Blaine's mind, and had been since the day he'd been sat down and told his son was gay. It would be something as simple as lingering glances, avoiding a touch or faking not listening. And sometimes he would blow up out of nowhere and accuse him of silly things, which often led to Blaine being yelled at. But it was never about his sexuality. The subject was avoided like the plague. His mother would talk to him about boys, but only on a PG level, and only when his father wasn't home.

Some might say Blaine had it easier than most. But the problem was that he had always been _desperate_ to please everyone. When he was little, he'd learned everything faster than the books taught possible, just to see the beaming smiles of his parents. He'd be up until dawn to be sure to get an A on a book report, just to get praise and proud smiles from every adult around him. But his dad refused to be pleased. He refused to just put a hand on his son's shoulder and tell him thanks. He refused to ever be satisfied with anything Blaine did. Always wanting something Blaine couldn't ever give him. Because even though he was practically the definition of a push over, he'd come to terms with who he was, and he wasn't going to change himself for someone else. Loaning out homework and helping someone walk their dog was one thing, but ignoring his orientations to please someone else was completely out of the question.

"Okay," Kurt said softly. Blaine could tell that Kurt knew, he just didn't want to talk about it, and Blaine was pleased. Another reason for him to like Kurt, he guessed.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I... You know what, never mind," Blaine said.

"You can't just start saying something and then decide to just not ask. What were you about to say?" Kurt said matter-of-factly. Blaine took a moment to look at him before returning to his question.

"Why did you transfer?" Kurt's eyes immediately left his.

"It's... complicated," Kurt said, copying Blaine's words. Blaine got the hint, but that didn't mean he was going to just give up. He actually really wanted to know. He told himself it was information anyone would be seeking, but if he was to be completely honest with himself, he probably wanted to know if Kurt had transferred because of the same reasons he had. He could see him being bullied in public school. The slightly higher voice he had, the fashion magazines... He got how some people were somehow allergic to others being different than them, but how someone could possibly justify teasing or even bullying someone like Kurt was enough to have him close his eyes and count to ten. It just wasn't fair.

"Something to do with your friends?" Blaine asked.

"No, why would you think that?" Kurt said, voice a little offended. Blaine just hoped being pushy wouldn't doom the chances he may had of ever asking Kurt out.

"I just thought that with the way you guarded yourself when you first got here, it could have been about trust issues. I guess not." _And I wanted to rule out the theory and thereby be one step closer to knowing the true reason_. Kurt seemed to think about it for a second.

"No. It had nothing to do with my friends. I miss them terribly," he sighed.

"What are they like?"

"They're sweet," he said, smiling, "and stupid. Funny. Loud. Quiet. Adventurous. Stuck in one place. They're everything, but at the same time they're nothing."

"How poetic," Blaine offered. Kurt smiled.

"Why thank you," the said. It was one of those moments where Blaine wished the dining hall was gone and replaced by soft looking pink clouds and romantic music like in the movies. Or at least the old ones, he guessed. But when Kurt finished his food by scraping the bottom of the container, creating a ear ripping sound the moment kind of passed. Blaine liked it anyway though. "Urgh... You know that awful taste of plastic the last piece of your food always leaves you with?" Kurt said, making a face to show Blaine he _definitely_ knew that taste.

"You want some gum?" Blaine offered, ducking into his bag as Kurt accepted.

"Bubblicious?" Kurt questioned, smile evident in his voice.

"What? It's only Savage Sour Apple. It's not like it's that strawberry stuff," he argued, squeezing two pieces from the wrapper, handing one to Kurt.

"Right," Kurt said, putting the green piece in his mouth, making another face with how sour it probably felt on his tongue. Blaine chuckled softly, as he listened to Kurt picking up another conversation.

* * *

**November 23.**

**Kurt**

For Kurt, going into a store in his Dalton Uniform felt like social suicide. If he was to ever meet someone he knew on his afternoon grocery shopping trips, he'd simply die of embarrassment. Luckily he didn't know anyone in Westerville besides some of the other teenage boys running around in blue blazers and gray formless pants. Ugh, those pants. They weren't flattering on _anyone_. They hugged parts of his legs that were not supposed to be hugged and all his nice assets were drowning in fabric. How he missed getting into his skinny jeans every morning, even though it usually took five minutes longer for them to be just right and not stop the circulation in his legs.

But if he wanted somewhat healthy food, he had to buy it himself. In the beginning he'd let his aunt handle grocery shopping, but it seemed her opinion of a varied diet involved two kinds of microwaved dinners and cereal. Naturally, Kurt had taken over grocery shopping. And he quite liked it actually. He'd always loved the feeling of putting things in a shopping basket, handing over money, or just walking around in a store. Of course, he still preferred getting clothes in exchange for his money, but groceries would just have to do.

As he was entering the supermarket, he was suddenly stopped by his phone going off in his pocket.

"Hello?" Even without looking at the screen, and without having him say anything on the phone, Kurt just knew that it was Finn calling. If it was the noise of what was obviously the tireshop in the background or the way he tended to exhale a little harder than normal people that gave him away, Kurt didn't know, but when you obsess over someone for several years, you just learn stuff about them.

"_Hey Kurt, it's Finn_," he sighed down the phone. Kurt couldn't help but smile at the despairing tone his friend was greeting him with. He was obviously in some sort of trouble; he always was.

"Hey. Did the toaster spit out another burned bomb of calories, making sure you get to second base with your girlfriend. And what's her name this week by the way?" Kurt said, adding low fat milk to the basket. Finn groaned.

"_Rachel. Well, she was until I broke up with her_," Finn told him, sounding more confused than Kurt felt. He lazily put a dozen tomatoes in a plastic bag, weighing it to get a sticker.

"And why did you break up with miss Berry, if I may ask?"

"_She cheated on me_," Finn simply said, causing Kurt to drop the lettuce he'd picked up.

"But all she ever talks about is loyalty. Care to elaborate?"

"_I don't know man. It's like... You know at sectionals, when everyone was freaking out about one thing or the other?_" Finn started.

"Eh no?" Kurt said, thinking back to the day he'd seen his friends backstage. They'd all seemed perfectly fine. Well except for Finn and Rachel who had been talking in the corner.

"_Well, Tina thought Mike cheated on her with Brittany, and Artie thought Brittany cheated on him with Mike. But Tina like never told Mike, why she was mad at him, and Brittany thought Artie meant a-adu-adoltentcy... Anyway they all found out it was a misunderstanding. And then someone told Rachel about that night Santana and I __spent __together_," Finn sighed.

"She didn't know about that?"

"_No. I told her I never went through with it, because she said__,__ she never went through with it that night with Jessie. And she was all like 'we'll be each others firsts', and I didn't know what to do!_"

"So you lied to her? We're talking about the girl who got the choir room set up with microphones, how did you ever think you'd get away with a lie like that?" Kurt asked him, choosing a different kind of cereal than the one he'd originally picked out.

"_I don't know, okay! But she got really mad, but then we made up and then she goes and tells me that while we were fighting, she made out with Puck. And I mean... That's what Quinn did, you know, and I just couldn't... I- I just couldn't, okay?_" Finn says, voice getting sadder as he thought about what his girlfriends had done to him.

"So you and Rachel broke up. Anything else knew in Lima?" he asked, not really paying that much attention to Finn's answer. Only when he mentioned _another_ new member to the glee club did Kurt interrupt. "Wait, so you got Lauren Zizes to join glee club?" He hated missing out on glee getting more socially acceptable. He knew from his friends that they still got slushied, and people still got thrown in dumpsters, but as one looking at it from the outside, he saw how glee club was slowly – very slowly – starting to get at least a little cooler to the kids at McKinley. Kurt knew it would never be like at Dalton, where the Warblers were practically celebrities, but it was a start, and Kurt hated to not be a part of it. He just really wanted to go back. He missed his friends like crazy and it would have been so nice to be a part of a group again. Of course he knew, he could just join some club at Dalton, but he never really felt like it. He didn't want a new life. He wanted his old one back. A life filled with singing, typical teenage drama and easier classes with less homework. A life where his dad would yell at him for missing another Friday night dinner or Kurt would get upset about not being allowed the things he wanted. He just wanted to go back...

"_Yeah, she's not even that bad. Well, Rachel says she's lacking something with an I in it. I can't __really remember what she said_," Finn said, and Kurt couldn't help but smile sadly at how Finn hadn't gotten used to not being Rachel's boyfriend yet. But Finn always needed a lot of time to get things, so it was quite predictable.

"Well that's great," Kurt lied, because he didn't think it was great at all. He really wanted Lauren Zizes to finally loose a wrestling game and maybe break her neck, that's what he wanted.

"_But Kurt that's not why I called_," Finn finally said. "_My mom and I wanted to invite you to thanksgiving_," he said. Kurt was shocked, but his heart melted at the sweet gesture. Just that they'd even thought about inviting him made it so much more bearable to be him. He'd feared when he'd first moved to Westerville that Carole and Finn would go on with their lives and not really care about him. He'd left them in charge of the shop, even though he was technically the one to inherit it. At first it had been a necessity since he wouldn't be able to take any shifts. One of his dad's old friends still worked in the shop, and with Finn taking shifts after work, they'd been able to still keep it running. Hummel's tires and lube was only open half the time it used to, but people seemed to be okay with that once they got the explanation on why Burt didn't run the shop anymore.

It had become more and more like a plan though. If Finn would take over on running the shop and Kurt himself could just own it, they'd never really part. He desperately clung to everything familiar, he knew, and Finn and Carole were one of those things. An element from his old life. He guessed that counted for the New Directions and his friends too. He just wanted to go back.

"I would love to. I have plans with my aunt on thanksgiving though..." he said, mentally cursing himself for insisting his aunt and he have a 'proper family dinner' on the 25th. Now more than anything did he wish to just ditch her and go have dinner with Carole and Finn.

"_Bring her too, man. My mom says we've got room enough_," Finn said and Kurt felt like hugging him through the phone.

"I'll ask her. Thank you so much for inviting us Finn. Please say hi to Carole from me," he said, placing some bread in the basket too. Finn agreed and they hung up. Kurt was thrilled. He suddenly couldn't wait for thanksgiving to come. It was a little late of them to invite him, but they had none the less, and Kurt was so glad.

He cheerfully made his way towards the exit, placing his groceries on the conveyor belt as he made it to check out. But as he placed the last pack of butter and made to go pay, his eye was caught by something on one of the shelves. It was one of those we-have-placed-it-here-for-you-to-see-it-and-not-be-able-to-resist-buying-it-things. It was placed between lollipops and prepaid cell phone cards, shouting for Kurt to just put it on the belt. Savage Sour Apple bubblegum.

"Anything else?" the cashier said tiredly. Kurt made a quick decision, practically throwing the gum towards his other items.

"No, that will be all."

* * *

**November 24. **

**Blaine**

"Can I be excused?" Blaine asked, folding his napkin neatly before putting it down on the table. His mom turned to look at him, smiling.

"Of course, dear. Just put your plate by the sink," she said before picking up the conversation with her husband again. They'd been discussing the same silly thing for nearly the whole evening, and Blaine was so sick of listening to plans about Christmas. He'd heard of families where kids would be involved in the decision of where Christmas should be spent, but he knew if he ever suggested something like that, his parents would probably laugh at him. So instead he'd sat there for nearly forty minutes, listening to how his mom under no circumstances would spend Christmas without her oldest son.

Personally Blaine didn't really care if Cooper made it home for Christmas. Maybe it would be easier to not have him there. But on the other hand, then all the attention would be on Blaine, and he wasn't sure he could handle taking on both the role of excited kid on Christmas morning and educated son with whom his dad could talk 'serious matters'. That was always how the holidays would go. His dad would forget all about him and focus solely on Cooper. Blaine saw it as a relief, but at the same time it felt like a slap to the face. He wasn't good enough. Never was, never would be.

The voices of his parents faded until he couldn't even hear them anymore as he made his way upstairs, closing the bedroom door behind him. Before dinner he'd been researching for an English paper he had to write, and he figured he could just as well continue that. He sat down by his desk, waking his computer by a brush to the touch pad.

Of course while he'd been researching how to write the assigned essay (so he fell asleep with his eyes open in class – big deal!), he'd had a tab for facebook open. He decided it wouldn't hurt to just _check_ before he went into serious study mode.

He made sure to comment on Jeff's status, saying he was going insane with the constant sound of girls' laughter and there was a reason for him attending a boy's school. He liked a picture of his cousin in Canada, showing herself and some friends in sleeping bags in front of some book store. He read through a very detailed description of what a Crawford girl named Amanda had written about a break up of her and her then ex-boyfriend, before opening a chat with her, to let her know he could be a listener, if she wanted it. Then he noticed something. A new friend request. He clicked to see who, and nearly fell out of his chair when a name popped up on his screen.

Kurt Hummel wanted to be his friend. Blaine couldn't stop smiling, as he quickly clicked the confirm button.

He then went to his own wall, looking at his recent activities. It felt good to see Blaine Anderson having befriended Kurt Hummel. Because that was what it was, and people couldn't stop him. They just couldn't.

After coming down from his boost of happiness, he went back to reading about features. He was unbelievably bored, and suddenly remembered why he hadn't paid attention in the first place. When he finally started writing, he was interrupted by another notification on facebook. A new message. He decided to check it before continuing – after all he was only human, and a teenager at that.

It turned out to be a message from Nick. The studying had done a good job of wiping off the smile he'd adopted, when Kurt had added him as a friend, but if it hadn't taken all of it, what Nick wrote certainly did. Blaine felt his stomach freeze slightly and his heart started beating a little faster.

_Nicholas Alexander Duval: _Watch it, Blaine.

* * *

_You know, you can follow me on twitter and tumblr, right? I'm mettehee on tumblr and mettehee96 on twitter :) _

_Please let me know what you think!_


	9. Free my mind

**A/N: **Hey - it's an update! xD

Thank you to everyone who follows this story, had it listed as a favorite (I mean - wow!) and especially to those who leave reviews! I love to hear what people think about this story, and I want you to know that this story isn't set in stone, and it's perfectly fine to wish for something :) I won't promise to include your suggestions, but I promise to think about it and see where your wish takes me!

All right, chapter nine is maybe a little shorter than my usual ones, but it just fits to cut it here, plus it was a little hard to write... For this chapter I'd like to add that watching Disney's 'Enchanted' after someone's died REALLY helps. People might say it's healthier to talk about what happened, but getting to cry to the sound of Amy Adam's beautiful voice is like therapy, guys!

The chapter song is 'Free my mind' by Katie Herzig, who was recommended to me through a friend, and even though I'm not a big fan, I really like this song.

Now, please enjoy chapter 9!

* * *

**November 27.**

**Kurt**

The best part about being back in Lima was definitely getting to stay with Mercedes. From the second he entered her house, after he'd politely greeted her parents and older brother of course, she hadn't stopped talking. She had arranged some food for them and then they'd headed up to her room, planning on not coming back down before Kurt had to leave in the evening.

"I told you I don't want the pudding, Mercedes," Kurt sighed, pushing it away, making his friend frown. They were sitting on her bed, reading the back of her movies, trying to decide which one to watch.

"But it's vanilla," she argued, trying one more time to make him take it. He once again pushed it away. "Would you just eat it!"

"I don't want it," he said impatiently. Mercedes gave up, placing the small cup on her nightstand. Kurt threw three movies in her direction. "I'm okay with those. You pick," he said, letting himself fall back onto the bed, enjoying how soft everything felt underneath him. He was really tired. He just wanted to crawl under the covers with his friend, watch a movie and not think about his life. His messed up life, one might add. He'd spent the last two days at Finn and Carole's and it had been filled with awkward silence, painful memories and food. His aunt had come too, despite all the protesting she'd done. She'd tried to get him to let her stay home, but Kurt just couldn't leave her on a holiday. She argued that she usually spent holidays alone, but he simply couldn't go to Lima, knowing she was at home with takeout on a day as important as thanksgiving.

Having her meet Carole and Finn was odd. It had felt like two worlds crashing. A world he so desperately hung on to and a world he would rather be without, to be honest. And the only thing they'd had to bond over was his dad, so naturally what should have been a day to be thankful for those living, became a day of grief for the ones lost. Most of the time was spent with Carole and his aunt talking awkwardly about Burt, Finn eating non-stop and Kurt hiding his face in his hands to avoid thinking about his parents. The only time he'd actually felt thankful, was when they'd finally gone to bed, and he'd been able to cry without anyone hearing in the basement.

"'P.S. I love you' it is then," Mercedes said, getting up to put it on. Moments later they were cuddled up underneath her pink zebraprint blankets with two mugs of lukewarm coffee.

"I've always liked their apartment," Kurt said softly. Mercedes agreed and smiled, when Kurt lay his head on her shoulder, searching for her hand under the covers. He felt like he could fall asleep like that, curled up in Mercedes and her room, which hadn't changed one tiny bit since March. He drew in a breath and smelled her perfume, which hadn't changed either. He touched her pillows, which hadn't changed, and suddenly he felt a tear leave his eye to run down his cheek. Why was the world so unfair? Why did Mercedes get to have _two_ parents and even a brother, when he had nothing but a socially awkward aunt in Westerville?

"Kurt? Are you crying?" she whispered as she tried to sit up, but it wasn't really possible with him having his head on her shoulder. He started shaking his head.

"No," he mumbled in a thick voice, but then he broke into an unexpected sob.

"But he hasn't even died yet," Mercedes said weakly before realizing it probably had nothing to do with the movie still playing on the screen. She paused it, before making a bigger effort to sit up, placing both hands on Kurt's shoulders. "Hey, look at me," she prompted and Kurt raised his chin to look at her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he argued while he desperately tried to wipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve. That action alone had Mercedes worried, he could tell. Usually he cared too much for his clothes to get saltwater on them, but he let himself justify it only this once, because suddenly all he could think about was not having any parents. He basically had no life, no friends closer than a two hour drive away, an aunt acting like taking him in was her duty and... and gum. He had gum in the bag he brought to Mercedes house. He had gum. Before he'd even thought it through, he was on his feet, digging through the satchel he'd brought, getting out the green pack of Savage Sour Apple gum.

"Kurt, talk to me. Please?" Mercedes pleaded, and when he turned to look at her, he saw the worry in her eyes. He got back in the bed.

"The last six months have just been crap, to say it mildly," he sighed, replacing his head on her shoulder while slowly chewing on the sour piece of candy in his mouth. It felt like an explosion of refreshment. Like it could literally make the bad taste of his life go away. He dried his eyes in Mercedes comforter and sent her a tentative smile.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said softly, but it wasn't the whole truth. He wasn't fine. He really, really wasn't... but he wasn't that bad either. Mostly, as he sat there in Mercedes pink bedding, he felt numb. Like he didn't really care all that much. "You can play the movie."

"Wow, hold on. You don't get to cry in my room and then brush it off with gum, all right?" Mercedes said, moving the remote out of reach, when he reached for it. She then sat down in front of him instead of beside him. Kurt rolled his eyes, he really wasn't in the mood to _talk about his feelings_ like Dr. Pacer had advised him to. "Now, tell me what's wrong."

"I'm fine, really," Kurt argued, trying one more time to reach for the remote. She put a hand on his chest, pushing him back into the pillows. "Come on, I just want to see the Irish guy in suspenders die – is that too much to ask? And who _wears_ suspenders anymore, they're so last season."

"Suspenders are adorable, and you know it. You're just bitter because you can't wear anything but that uniform to school, but I'm pretty sure that's not what made you wipe your expensive face products in my bedding. Tell me what's going on, or I'm taking back my top hat," she threatened.

"Please, it makes your face look like a cylinder, you said so yourself," he shot back.

"That's not the point. The point is that you used to tell me what you had for breakfast _every single morning_ and now I can't even get you to tell me why you're crying," she said, sounding hurt. Kurt winced at her tone. Was that how she felt? Like he didn't want her to know stuff? Maybe it was true, but he never thought about Mercedes disliking not being included. She'd never complained before, which was very out of character for her, since they were both known as people who didn't keep a lid on things when they found them insufficient.

"What do you want me to say?" he said with a sigh.

"I want you to explain, once and for all, why you're so incredibly sad all the time!" she pleaded.

So he told her.

He told her of how he and Carole had watched 'Enchanted' while silently crying after his dad's funeral. He told her about the hurt he'd felt, when Sue had finally snapped at him and thrown him off the Cheerios in front of _everyone_ at lunch. He showed her a picture of his nowhere near finished room in the apartment he was forced to share with an aunt, who'd just ruined what could have been two amazing days with Finn and Carole. He told her of how he'd been at the cemetery the day before to find his father's grave had a cigarette stub on it. He told her of how he missed the New Directions like crazy and felt like Dalton was slowly stealing him away, of how he felt he'd betrayed his friends by cheering for Dalton at Sectionals. He told her of his nightmares. He told her of how he'd denied almost all friendliness shown towards him his first weeks at Dalton. And finally he told her of the few half-friends he _had_ managed to make and how a pair of haunting tea-brown eyes had made him smile more in a two minute conversation than he did in a whole week.

Not once did Mercedes interrupt him. It was if she was afraid he would close up again, if she did. But Kurt knew he wouldn't. He had kept it in for too long, and finally being able to just let it all out helped more than he had ever imagined. He would have liked to say he kept a stone face while telling the story of his misery, but the truth was that he cried, smiled and sobbed his way through it. Some parts Mercedes softly ask him to repeat, and when he did, he felt even better than the first time he'd said them.

"Am I getting this right? So on top of all the crap thrown your way with your dad dying, moving and changing school, you have boy-trouble? That is _so_ unfair!" she finally said, making Kurt smile, because what he needed was not pity in form of a thousand 'I'm sorry's, what he needed was knowing that Mercedes hadn't changed and was still there for him. She was. She had been since they became friends, and she would probably be until they exploded in each others faces one day in the far, far future, when they would be competing on a stage somewhere amazing.

"I know, it's like the universe had to see how far they could take it," he groaned before he hid his face in a pillow. Mercedes chuckled and gently began stroking his back. "The joke is over." His words were muffled by the pillow, but it felt as if Mercedes had heard him anyway.

"Kurt... I can't do much about the stuff with your aunt except offer you the opportunity to always come here, or find me at school or something if it gets to be too much. If there was any way your aunt would let you attend McKinley again, I'd say you could live here, but from what you've told me of her, I don't think she'd be very cooperative," Mercedes said, lifting one shoulder to signal there wasn't much she could do. Kurt just nodded. He already knew. "I can't do much about your grief either, because I only think that will lesson with time and happiness, and I'm not sure I'm the one to bring you that," she said, and he could hear by the way she said it that she wasn't done. "But maybe someone else could..."

"No. No, Mercedes, okay. I know that look. You think I should pursue a relationship with Blaine. That is so not what I need, okay? What I need is time, not romance," Kurt argued, coming up from the pillow to look at her pointedly.

"It's just... You _have had_ time, Kurt. Your dad died in March. You moved in June. It's November. I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you, but you're stuck," she said softly.

"And you think mooning over a guy in high school is what will help me now? What happened to the whole idea of not needing a man, being single and proud? That only applies to you or what?" he snapped. Luckily Mercedes didn't take offense.

"Of course not. And if you hadn't told me about him, I would never have suggested it, but you like this guy don't you?" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I don't know if I _like_ him. He's nice I guess," he sighed, but Mercedes knew him too well.

"You like him. I can see it on your face. Come on, Kurt, this could be good for you. Give it a try – it can't hurt to try," she said. Kurt snorted.

"Can't hurt? It hurts to not be wanted, Mercedes. I've tried it before, remember? And Blaine is just friendly, okay. Just because he's gay, doesn't mean I'm his type. Hell, I don't even know if he's _my_ type. He's the first guy I've ever met with a possibility of becoming more than friends, because he actually likes guys too. That is not the same as attraction," he said while toying with the corner of her pillow.

"Is he hot?" she suddenly said, making Kurt look up at her, shocked.

"What?"

"Is he cute?" she tried again.

"I- yes," he said, confused on where she was going with that.

"Look, Kurt, I'm not saying you should marry the guy. I'm simply saying, you should try being around him. You know better than anyone how thrilling it is to be around someone you like. It doesn't have to lead to anything. Be his friend. Kiss him if you feel like it. Let him help you move on," she said while she softly stroked his hand, which had made it's way into her's.

"How?" was all he said, making her smile.

"Just let it come naturally. Watch one of those high school movies and see what they do to get attention. Be a high school cliche for once," she said, chuckling into his shoulder, as they curled up against each other again. It meant the serious conversation was over, and it was time for them to be goofy again. Well, as goofy as two drama queens with respect for themselves and big egos could be.

* * *

**November 28.**

**Blaine**

Cooper coming home for thanksgiving was not a pleasant surprise in Blaine's eyes. So when Cooper had announced he'd be spending the next week in Westerville – or at _home_ as he called it – Blaine wasn't exactly thrilled. But because it was a Sunday he could mostly hide in his room, using the excuse of having homework to do. What he hadn't expected was for his brother to insist on helping him. That was what had gotten Blaine stuck actually working on a history report due in two long weeks. He decided to not tell his brother that. If he knew, he would probably try to talk Blaine into doing something else; preferably something to do with him teaching Blaine something, like lessons in acting, singing or one time he'd even been asked to practice _blinking_. How he had managed to stay sane during Cooper's visit was a mystery to him.

"So... The French Revolution," Cooper said before throwing himself on the bed, messing up all of Blaine's pillows doing so. Blaine held in a sigh as he sat down with his computer. What he really wanted was to call one of his friends, but of course Cooper wouldn't let him. "School is important, little brother, so don't get behind by not paying attention in class. What teachers teach you may seem boring now, but I promise you, if you're ever to be on a quiz-show, knowing stuff about the French Revolution will definitely only be an advantage."

"That's your advice? Do well in class in case you're ever to get picked for reality-TV?" Blaine said disbelievingly. Cooper frowned.

"Yeah. I mean it's not like you'll ever use knowledge about something as silly as another revolution anywhere else," he said, placing a pillow behind his neck to make himself more comfortable. Blaine had to bite his lip to not ask his brother to take his stinky feet off of his bed.

"What if I wanted to become a teacher?" Cooper let out what could have been a laugh, but sounded more like a snort.

"You want to teach?" he said disbelievingly. Blaine thought about answering with the phrase _Yes, computerage-philosophy_, but couldn't get himself to do it. Had he been with one of his friends, he would have made the joke without hesitation, even if they wouldn't get it, but alone in his room with Cooper, he didn't dare in fear of being made fun of.

"No, but what if I did?" Blaine said, determined to make Cooper realize his own mistake. He was a mean brother in that way, but only because his brother was meaner. Cooper totally ignored his question though in favor of asking one himself.

"What _do_ you want to be, Blaine?" he asked and Blaine couldn't help but feel like it was a challenge. Like if he said something unrealistic his brother would tell him instantly. Never mind he himself chose to be an actor in LA – talk about unrealistic.

"I don't know, okay," he answered, as he focused on the screen of the computer instead of Cooper in his bedroom.

"I don't believe that for a second. Come on, tell me what you want to waste your life with, Blainey," Cooper joked, but Blaine wasn't sure it was completely a joke. He never really knew when it came to his brother.

"I guess I would like to sing as a profession," Blaine said with a shrug.

"Then you don't need history. Trust me, all you need is Dad's money and my contacts, and you'll be on iTunes' top forty within a week. You know, I met Kevin Richardson at a party once," Cooper said, which had Blaine frowning.

"Who?"

"Kevin Richardson, he was in Backstreet boys," Cooper said, rolling his eyes at his stupid younger brother. Blaine had heard lots of stories like that. About famous people Cooper had met. Having met someone often translated into having held someone's drink or followed someone out to their car when you were talking to Cooper, though. Or at least that was the sense Blaine had gotten after stories of how he'd seen Madonna's daughter and shaken hands with an understudy on some Broadway show. "I'm telling you, kid, move to LA and you'll meet celebrities every day," Cooper laughed.

"Whatever," he mumbled and went back to his report.

"Don't whatever me. I can really help you, if it's music you want to pursue."

"How? You're an actor," Blaine argued, making Cooper smile. Blaine felt like rolling his eyes. How stuck up could someone be? Smiling at the sound of your own profession like people should be even prouder of you?

"I know the right people, little brother. It's all about knowing the right people. Like when I first came to LA, I had to make a name for myself. I've done that, and now it would be piece of cake for you to go there too, just because we're related," Cooper explained. Blaine felt like throwing his water bottle at him. He _always_ had to be the better one. Not once could Blaine experience something on his own without having his family involved in it. Had he known Cooper would act like that, he never would have told him about his dream in the first place.

"I don't want to go to LA," he then said. It wasn't something he'd ever really thought about, but as he sat there in his room, he realized he had a chance of breaking free. Cut the umbilical cord to his family when he moved out, and if that meant not moving west, it wasn't a big sacrifice for him to make. And no way was he staying in Ohio either.

"Whatever you say, little brother, you'll end up at my door step with a suitcase filled with those awful bowties and too short pants whether you want to or not," Cooper said with a chuckle, leaving the bed in favor of standing right behind Blaine. "Now, let's write a report on the French Revolution in a dramatic way. Nothing is as boring as a plain description of what happened when, you want to include things like monologs, dramatic words, blood, who killed who. You're lucky I'm here to help you, Blainey." Blaine was a teenager, and was by nature not certain of many things, but one thing was he absolutely sure about – having Cooper anywhere near him was _never_ a result of him being lucky.

* * *

**December 1.**

**Kurt**

Maybe if Kurt hadn't had PE at eight o'clock in the morning on the field _outdoors_ he would have appreciated the fact that the first snow of the year hit the ground on the first day of December. He wasn't pleased though. He'd forgotten about the day's lesson and was forced to exercise in his uniform. Back at McKinley teachers had never really cared if he participated, and often actually kind of preferred if he just sat out, but at Dalton you were granted ten extra minutes of exercise by being inactive. So surely Kurt did his best to stay right on the line of participating and doing as little as possible.

"All right, hit the showers, boys," their teacher called, making Kurt want to hug her. But he was too cold to stay out any longer than highly necessary, and hurried to get back inside. Luckily he'd placed an emergency kit consisting of both a towel and a spare shirt in his locker, which he had retrieved upon finding out he'd forgotten the uniform appropriate for PE. He took a shower and quickly changed, still not used to the way no one yelled for him to find the girls locker room, or stop peaking at them. He was finished way before anyone else, and decided to just leave to not draw attention to himself by staying while half-naked or less guys walked around him.

As it turned out that was probably the best choice he ended up making that day, because waiting just outside of the locker rooms was Blaine. At first he felt like storming back through the door when he saw him, just to be able to check his hair one more time. Of course he knew it was flawless as ever, and it would look weird for him to just turn around, so instead he took a deep breath and tried to catch Blaine's eye. Luckily he didn't have to do much, Blaine instantly saw him.

"Kurt," he grinned, and Kurt couldn't help a smile.

"Hey," he greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting. I was suppose to meet up with my lab partner this morning, but he must have forgotten because I sat there for twenty minutes without him showing up," Blaine sighed. "It's okay though. I already did most of the assignment anyway, I just need him to read it before I hand it in."

"Wow, sounds like you're an easy partner to have," Kurt said without thinking. Luckily Blaine didn't catch the unfortunate wording that had Kurt blushing. He just shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess," he added with a smile. "So what's your next class?"

"Math, I think. God, I must have gotten brain freeze out on those fields today – I'm so not up for calculating of any kind," Kurt sighed, making Blaine laugh.

"I have a free period if you're up for skipping," he offered. It was clearly meant as a joke on Blaine's part, but Kurt couldn't help but consider. One had to admit spending an hour with Blaine somewhere in the romantic setting of the first snow of the year definitely topped an hour of trigonometry where he would probably sit and not understand a thing anyway.

"I'm up for it," he declared, making Blaine's eyes widen.

"Seriously? I was joking, Kurt," he clarified. Kurt only raised an eyebrow in response.

"I know you were. I'm not. If you want to go get coffee, I'm in." Where the boost of confidence came from he didn't know, but God was he grateful when Blaine slung his red and blue striped scarf around his neck with a smile, telling him to lead the way.

They ended up in a small cafe filled with the all-pervading scent of freshly brewed coffee and soft chairs for them to sit in. Before sitting down, Blaine asked for Kurt's coffee order, which put another smile on the junior's face and made his stomach flutter. If someone had told him he was going to spend an hour having an almost-date with a cute Warbler, he would have gotten up a lot faster that morning.

"There you go. One nonfat mocha," Blaine said sweetly, as he placed the steaming cup of coffee in front of Kurt. As Blaine fiddled with the wrapped sugar cube, Kurt carefully warmed his hands on the steam. Shyly their eyes met over the table, and both smiled with a soft blush, before returning their attention to their cups.

"I'll pay you for the coffee, you know," Kurt assured him, but all he gained in return was a snort and the sight of Blaine's eyebrows coming closer together as he wrinkled his nose.

"Don't even think about it."

"No, seriously, let me just get my wallet," Kurt argued and made to get his bag, but suddenly a foot was in the way. A foot clad in the same shoes as his own only a few sizes smaller, it looked like.

"I'm not letting you pay," Blaine laughed. Kurt bit his lip to not smile at the silly look on the boy's face. He sure was something.

"Fine," he sighed and then added with a flirty smile: "I'll just pay next time."

"Keep dreaming," Blaine laughed, before he took a sip of his coffee. Kurt caught himself staring at the Warbler, as Blaine licked his lips after he put his cup down. Heat found it's way to Kurt's cheeks, and he quickly made sure to cover at least a good part of his face with a discrete wipe of his lips with a napkin. "I was planning on using my free period doing homework, but-"

"Oh...You can still do that! Don't let me bother you. I'll just..." Kurt started. How stupid of him. He hadn't even given Blaine a chance to get out, before he drove off with him and made him buy him coffee. He felt like hiding in embarrassment. Blaine however was quick to start speaking again.

"No! That's not what I was going to say. If you'd just let me finish, I would have said that this," he pointed between them and the table, "is definitely better than what I had planned," he finished, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, elbow supporting on the table. Kurt couldn't help a smile.

"Oh," he got out. He had to break eye contact, because it felt simply too good looking into those hazel eyes, and if he wasn't careful, he might have done or said something inappropriate for their friendship.

"I like your gloves," Blaine commented, pointing towards where Kurt had his hands neatly placed on the table. As if he hadn't even considered he still wore them, Kurt looked to his knitted gloves. They were navy with dark gray stripes and little buttons decorating the back of his hand.

"Thank you. I got them just last week," Kurt explained, as he toyed with the fabric.

"They look really good on you," Blaine said as he tore his eyes from Kurt's hands to his eyes.

"That's it?" Kurt found himself asking in disbelief.

"What?"

"They look good on me? You're not going to comment on how they're gloves meant for women?" Blaine frowned, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him.

"No? Should I?" he asked, sounding confused. Kurt was confused as well.

"I believe fashion has no gender, but a lot of people don't agree with me," he said defensively.

"No gender? Wow. Ehm... I never really thought of it like that," Blaine admitted, as he brought his teeth to his thumb to chew lightly on the skin surrounding the nail. "A man wearing women's gloves doesn't bother me. I guess if a guy showed up in heals and a dress I'd stare a little, but I'm not one to judge people on their appearance," Blaine said, frown still evident on his forehead as he spoke. It was clearly not something he'd considered, but Kurt liked how Blaine didn't need forever to know what he was for and against.

"That's good to know," Kurt said softly.

"Okay, now I feel like you're going to show up to school tomorrow in your grandma's green and orange dress, wearing a summer hat and those clip on earrings," Blaine laughed. Kurt mockingly huffed.

"I'm saving the earrings for a special occasion," he joked, and Blaine had to put down his cup to not spill coffee all over himself while he laughed. Kurt smiled an honest smile, and for the first time in a really long time he felt like laughing. He didn't though. He hadn't in months, so why would he today? Nothing was special that day except for the snow slowly descending outside and the boy sitting across from him, who had begun a new passionate conversation after he stopped chuckling. His eyes were positively sparkling, and Kurt felt like reaching to touch his cheek, just to see if Blaine would like the touch. He didn't. But he promised himself that he would. Soon.

* * *

**Songs sort of used:**

**'Santa Fe' from the musical RENT**

****_Please consider leaving a review - I don't bite :) _


	10. Trouble is a friend

**A/N: **Hi! Happy New Year? Is it still acceptable to say that? If not, I'm sorry.

So, the unthinkable happened - a few people I know found my tumblr, which makes it a little awkward to blog about this story and fanfiction in general, because they already look at me weirdly. ANYWAY, I got a new tumblr and it will be a lot more focused on my writing, so if you want to know what I'm thinking or imagining come visit me at **www . bust-my-buttons . tumblr . com**

Also I'm trying to go through the first chapters to fix majors mistakes and such, so that hopefully people won't curl their toes as much :)

The song of this chapter is called Trouble is a friend by Lenka, who's a wonderful artist.

It's betaed by HailParadise

And now I guess there's only one thing left to say: Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 10: Trouble is a friend_

* * *

**December 7. **

**Blaine**

Blaine was ready to admit that sneaking around between the shelves of Dalton's school library maybe wasn't the best idea he'd come up with. He'd thought that his height would, for once in his life, actually pay off, and it would be easy to hide behind stuff; but it turned out Kurt Hummel had a sharper eye than Blaine had given him credit for.

"Blaine?" he heard a questioning voice call in a whisper. He turned and saw none other than the boy he thought he'd been spying on. He was wearing the blue Dalton sweater with a tight fitted shirt underneath it, rolled up to his elbows, and though school policy forbade students from adding too many accessories to the uniform, Kurt was wearing both a pin with a cat on it and a milkman-like cap.

"Hi," Blaine decided was the best way to approach the situation. Kurt frowned with a doubtful smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's the school library, Kurt. You make it sound like I'm not suppose to be here," Blaine whispered with a smile instead of answering the question. Somehow he thought Kurt would find it disturbing how he was spying on him like some creep.

"I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to be here. You're usually not in the library," Kurt apologized.

"Oh yeah? You noticed?" Blaine found the blush decorating Kurt's cheeks absolutely adorable.

"Well yeah, I mean, I... haven't seen you here," he got out. Blaine smiled. He remembered several occasions where he'd been in the library while Kurt was there. But Kurt probably hadn't noticed him though – that's usually how spying on someone works.

"I don't come here that often," Blaine half lied. He didn't, but since he'd found out Kurt was there from time to time he'd started hanging out in the library a lot more than he ever had before.

"Then why now?" Kurt half-whispered with a smile.

"Just wanted to see what those books people keep talking about are all about," Blaine said jokingly and pulled out a book from the shelve next to where Kurt stood. The joke had probably worked better if he hadn't pulled out a book titled 'Get the love you want – a guide for couples'. He quickly put it back, before sending Kurt a smile that hopefully told him nothing about the book he'd accidentally chosen.

"Right," Kurt said with a smile. "I have an essay due Monday. I'm sitting over there, if you want to join me," he said, pointing towards a table where a couple of books were spread out surrounding a laptop. Blaine silently nodded and sat down at the table, after walking around a little and picking out an innocent book to borrow. He had to remove a poetry book to have a place to sit, and when he looked at the cover, he suddenly dreaded becoming a junior.

"You read ballads in English class?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah, we're suppose to compare it to a newer piece, but I'm not quite sure what to pick," Kurt sighed, as he removed some notes to make room for an apple he'd retrieved from his bag. Blaine flipped through the book without really looking.

"Newer than a ballad or new-new?" he asked, as he put down the heavy poetry book.

"I'm not even sure. The assignment says 'newer piece'," Kurt replied, before taking a bite of the apple. "I have no idea what I'm doing," he sighed, and pushed the computer a little forcefully away from himself. Kurt wasn't one to slump in a chair, but Blaine could see he was tempted to; his face was buried in his hands, his back a little crumbled and his legs were spread wide, feet resting on the heels of his boots instead of neatly crossed like they usually were. Kurt was obviously frustrated with his paper. Blaine would do his best to get a smile back on his face.

"Hey, now, I don't believe that. Here let me help you," he said and reached for the book Kurt had open next to him. As if he doubted Blaine was serious, he hesitantly handed over the book. Blaine quickly read through the contents. He only knew two of the tales listed, but he'd liked both when they'd done them in his own class. He pointed them out to Kurt, telling him of ways he could bring up the author compared to having no author in a ballad. They ended up sitting there for two whole hours, with Blaine bringing ideas to the table and Kurt furiously typing away on his computer. At one point Blaine got up and got them bad coffee from the vending machine placed in the cafeteria, which they both made faces at. Blaine found himself laughing more than he had in days, but he also noticed he was alone with the laughing. Kurt would snort, choke on air, smile, grin, but never laugh. Blaine tried to be his funniest; making weird faces, telling silly jokes and corny lines, but nothing worked. Kurt refused to laugh with him.

"What's your favorite movie?" Blaine suddenly asked, resting his elbows on the table. Kurt didn't stop his work to answer, simply told him 'Moulin Rouge!' and continued typing. Blaine frowned. "Moulin Rouge? A courtesan and a writer who fall in love, and she dies of tuberculosis... Isn't that a little depressing?"

"Yes. Can you pass me the marker?" Kurt simply said without looking at him. He knew Kurt had been busy when they'd first sat down in the library, but after two hours of semi-intense working he wasn't behind anymore, so why he was suddenly so caught up was beyond Blaine.

"What makes it your favorite?" Blaine tried.

"I like the songs," was all he got. Still no eye contact. Blaine felt like sighing.

"Well, I agree, but to me it just seems like such a sad movie," he said with a shrug. Finally Kurt pulled his eyes away from the screen and looked at him.

"What's wrong with sad movies?" he said almost daringly. Blaine definitely felt like he'd said something wrong.

"Nothing," he quickly assured him,"they're just... well, sad," he ended up saying.

"Being sad is just as much a feeling as being happy," Kurt said coldly, clearly ending the conversation. Blaine was lost. What had he said to make the good mood disappear that quickly? But before he could apologize or even come up with a theory of what he'd done wrong, Kurt declared he had to go. "My aunt's depending on my cooking skills. If I'm not home before her, she orders take out."

"Oh," was all Blaine had to say, as he just sat there, watching Kurt pack his things. "Why do you eat with your aunt?" Kurt tensed, before he started packing even faster. Again he had clearly said the wrong thing.

"Look, Blaine, thanks for helping me today, I really appreciated it. What do you say I buy you coffee on Thursday after your gym class as a thank you?" Kurt said, voice suddenly light and he was smiling. Blaine was without saying confused.

"That's not neces-" he began, but was interrupted.

"Nonsense. I have to repay you both for last time and your help," Kurt insisted, as he threw a scarf around his neck. "I'll just wait for you in the hall, okay?"

"Okay," was all Blaine could say. Kurt swung his bag over his shoulder, put a hand on Blaine's shoulder and smiled.

"Thank you for your help, Blaine," he said gratefully, and before Blaine knew it he was gone, leaving Blaine looking confused, brows furrowed more than ever.

As he was walking across the parking lot a little later, he thought about how Kurt had refused to answer his question about eating with his aunt. Why had that been? He was so afraid he'd ruined everything without even knowing what he'd done wrong. There had just been something in Kurt's eyes telling him he was desperate to get away from him. Blaine sighed deeply as he got in his car, and it was only when he remembered Kurt's promise of coffee that made him able to turn the key. At least he hadn't ruined _everything_.

* * *

**December 9.**

**Blaine**

"Stop staring, Blaine. It's rude," David chuckled in a whisper, when Kurt sat down on one of the couches in the Warblers' practice room. Blaine didn't really hear what David said. Not even when Jon repeated it. Only when Jeff placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder and sat down next to him, did he pull out of his almost-trance.

"Kurt," he called happily, as he made his way to the junior. He was met by a shy smile in return. Kurt's eyes looked blue in the light coming from the big windows, his cheeks were slightly pink and Blaine found it almost impossible to not smile at him. He chose to not fight his instincts. "What are you doing here?"

"Jeff wanted me to see you guys perform," Kurt explained with a smile. His voice told Blaine that Jeff had probably dragged him to the room. He felt like kissing Jeff out of gratitude.

"I thought he should see what he's missing out on," Jeff said excitedly, a look of giddiness on his face as he told Blaine of a youtube channel with videos of Kurt's old glee club performing that he'd discovered, while he'd been innocently searching the internet. Blaine made sure to take note of the name of the channel.

"If you sing why haven't you joined the Warblers?" Jon asked with a frown.

"It's complicated," was the only answer the guys got, before Wes banged his gavel to signal that practice had begun. The guys focused on their music; their harmonies needed adjustments before regionals, according to Thad, who was a council member. It was probably a little boring to watch, but every time Blaine sneaked a glance in Kurt's direction, he still sat there, cute as ever, like he belonged in the room. Blaine sang lead on 'All I Want For Christmas Is You', and if he was singing it in the direction of where Kurt sat next to Jeff, it wasn't exactly planned. When Wes ended practice, everyone was in a good mood and Blaine was ready to go ask Kurt if he wanted to have that coffee then, but before he got to it, he felt a hand grab for his lower arm, keeping him back.

"Hey, Blaine, can I talk to you for a second?" Nick asked quietly. Blaine was a little taken aback by the request, and it took him some time to realize he probably had to hurry, if he wanted to catch Kurt before he left.

"Nick, I kind of need to go," he explained, but when he spun his head to look for the junior, he only saw his backside leave the room deep in conversation with Jon and David. He'd missed his chance. With a sigh he turned to Nick. "Never mind. What's up?"

"Blaine, I'm worried about you," his friend started when they were alone in the room. Blaine frowned.

"Why?" he asked. Nick pulled him to sit down on one of the couches.

"It's just... I thought you'd lay off Kurt?"

"I was going to. I was! But then he... Have you seen him, Nick?" Blaine said with a chuckle. "He's too cute for his own good, honestly. And sweet. And yet he's sassy and has a great sense of humor," he explained with an expression that probably told Nick just how into Kurt Hummel he really was.

"Don't you remember what we talked about outside the cafeteria? He's not for you to fix, Blaine," Nick sighed.

"I know that. I'm not trying to. But I really like him," Blaine said, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point.

"But are you sure?"

"I am"

"Why? What's so special about him, Blaine? What is it about him that makes it impossible for you to leave him alone? You hardly know him, really," Nick argued, tone a little more forceful, as his green eyes bored themselves into Blaine's. For a second Blaine was caught off guard, and he just sat there with his mouth slightly open, eyes on the ceiling as if it would carry the answer. When he realized he was on his own, he locked eyes with his friend.

"I dare say I know him better than anyone else at this school," he decided to say. It was probably there it went wrong. He should have told Nick how amazing Kurt was. Told him of their conversations. About his smile, his eyes, his everything. Instead Blaine chose to be accusing in an attempt to protect himself.

"And why is that, Blaine? Because you got rid of everyone else so that you could be alone with him. Jeff told me about your unscheduled 'lunch break' in fourth period!" Nick shot back. At first Blaine was angry at Jeff for telling on him, though he probably wasn't aware that he'd done anything wrong. Then he saw something. Why was it Nick's business anyway?

"Well, it wasn't like he was welcome at our lunch table when you were there. He's been sitting by himself nearly every day for four months now, Nick," Blaine said and got up to stand next to the window. He wasn't good with confrontations, and looking at his friend while he was trying to make a point wasn't the best idea.

"But it was never your responsibility to play hero"

"I don't care, okay. I _wanted_ to sit with him," Blaine said in a tired voice.

"I'm not sure you did. Okay, I get if you think he's good looking, but honestly do you see a relationship with him going anything but badly? He's been hurt. We don't know by what or who, and he refuses to tell us!" Nick argued, his whole torso turned against Blaine, and finally his hazel eyes were directed at him again.

"Of course he won't tell us! What if something absolutely horrible happened to him? I've seen him with books about coping with grief, Nick. That's not something to joke about," Blaine spat. Suddenly he felt _so_ mad, and he had no idea where the sudden rage came from. "Imagine starting at a new school, where everyone already knows each other, where classes are harder than you're used to and then no one even wants to sit with you at lunch!"

"I _asked_ him on his very first day here."

"...And since then it has been _clear_ that he's not welcome at all," Blaine laughed dryly.

"Okay, calm down, Blaine. You know I'm only looking out for you," Nick said softly. The words were Blaine's ticket to peace. If he nodded, bowed down once again, and told Nick 'of course,' everything would go back to the way it was and everyone would be happy. They would hug, Nick would tell him to take care of himself and they'd go for a snack in the kitchen. But that's when it hit him. Everyone wouldn't be happy. Kurt wouldn't. And maybe... maybe Blaine wouldn't either. The realization felt like a punch to his chest, but once he thought about it, he wasn't able to let it go. Not anymore.

"You're not, though," Blaine said in a calm, icy voice. He turned his head and met Nick's confused eyes.

"I am. We all are, Bla-"

"You really aren't," he laughed humorlessly with a frown, bringing a hand to his head as if the realization suddenly got too heavy for him. "Please just let me finish, okay? I like Kurt. I do. But it's not even about that anymore, is it? You just don't want me to be happy."

"No! That's not-"

"I told you to let me finish!" Blaine yelled, and had he not been in deep thought while talking, he probably would have been surprised by how angry he sounded. Nick sure was. He pulled back on the couch a bit, as Blaine walked a little closer. His eyes were far away, as if he was connecting the dots, trying to make sense of something. "I feel like if I told you I was in love with him, all you'd do was try to talk me out of telling him. I'm not saying I am. I just... I can't have friends who don't want what's best for me," he explained in a controlled voice.

"Blaine, come on, where is this coming from? Of course I want you to be happy! But I really, really don't want to see you hurt either. When you first got here... You were so _broken_ and you can't blame me for not wanting to see you like that – ever. You're my best friend, for God's sake!" Nick cried out, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Some best friend I have, huh!" Blaine shouted, once again making Nick scoot back on the couch. Blaine's brain was on fire. His mind was a chaos of half finished thoughts who were all pushing to get first in line. It felt as if his head would explode if he didn't get some of it out. Therefore the yelling. "I- I'm fine, okay! I can take care of myself. I'm not the boy I was a year ago."

"Except you are!" Nick shot back. He too had raised his voice now, and before they knew it, the boys were standing right in front of each other, chests pushed out, eyes never leaving the other's. "It takes _one tiny _request from some nameless guy to send you back to the way you acted last November! How do you think that makes me feel? I feel fucking guilty, okay?! I clearly didn't do enough to help, and now you _purposely_ want to seek out what you _know _is trouble? After all we did for you, you're ready to jump right back in with both feet and let yourself drown? How do you think that feels to me!?"

"It's _my_ life and you can't control what I do!"

"I NEVER said I wanted to control you! I'm _looking out for you_, because you clearly won't do it yourself."

"You just don't get it," Blaine cried, as he pressed the palms of his hands to his forehead. "I don't want you to babysit me. I. Am. Fine," he spat.

"I would like to see you go a week without someone telling you what to do. You're practically helpless, Blaine!" Nick yelled and that was it. Both boys froze as if on cue. Worse stuff had been said, but the look on Blaine's face clearly told them both that their fight had evolved from a argument to having affected their friendship.

"Really?" Blaine said calmly, glaring daggers at the boy across from him. Nick seemed to be thinking, but he didn't apologize. Blaine nodded as if he'd just decided something. "I'm going to be a total cliche and end this with a single word. FINE!"

He wasn't stopped on his way out the room. He wasn't stopped on his was up the stars, in the common room, or when he stopped to knock on Jeff's door. It only took the blonde seconds to open it, and when the door swung aside it showed just who Blaine needed. He strode right by Jeff and focused on the boy sitting on Trey Brown's bed.

"Kurt, I have something I want to ask you. Saturday I'm performing at a 'Christmas Spectacular' at the King Island's amusement park. It's this duet of _Baby, it's cold outside_, and I could really use someone to help me practice. Would you be my duet partner?" Blaine rambled so fast he was impressed Kurt even got what he meant. Blaine's cheeks were probably still heated from the fight, his chest was heaving from the walk up the stairs and if he knew himself he'd probably messed up his hair too at some point. But if Kurt was suspicious of anything, he didn't say. Instead Blaine was granted with a earsplitting smile from the blue-eyed boy, whose eyes were practically shining with excitement.

"Sure."

* * *

**December 14.**

**Kurt**

When Kurt and Mercedes had discussed favorite chick flick movies one night in October, one of Kurt's arguments as to why _Pride and Prejudice_ was more romantic than _The Notebook,_ had been how simple and more pure things were back then. Mr. Darcy never had to make dinner reservations, ask for a phone number, or deal with the possibility of coming off as clingy. He just had to waltz around looking good, take Elizabeth for a little trip to a cornfield, and the deal was sealed.

In spite of that he'd never truly realized how much living in the twenty first century sucked. Most of all he felt like creating an outfit to fit the 1800 and just pretend to not use the iPhone on the bed in front of him. Unfortunately life wasn't that simple.

"To win something you have to loose something. Just don't let it be my dignity," Kurt mumbled to himself as he hit the call button for the fourth time that evening. This time he once again promised himself he wouldn't hang up.

But Kurt was weak. He'd already drawn the phone away from his ear, ready to end the call, when suddenly he heard a muffled 'hello' as the phone was picked up in the other end of town. He instantly panicked. That wasn't suppose to happen! He debated if he could just hang up now, but then the voice repeated the greeting, this time a little confused, and Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat and brought the phone back to his ear.

"Hi." The word came out incredibly high pitched and almost didn't make it past his lips.

"Who is it?" Blaine asked on the other end. He sounded slightly annoyed. Kurt quickly cleared his throat to answer him.

"Sorry. It's Kurt," he told him and he could hear Blaine moving around on the other end. He didn't receive an answer, but then he heard the sound of a door closing and figured Blaine had gone to his room or something to talk.

"Hey, Kurt," he slowly said, but suddenly all annoyance was out of his voice. He simply sounded really tired in Kurt's ears.

"Is something wrong?" he asked tentatively. He figured he wouldn't have much luck with what he wanted to ask Blaine, if the boy was angry.

"It's nothing. I'm just... never mind, okay," Blaine said softly. "I'm glad you called," he added sweetly and Kurt felt his heart speed up. Really?

"Really?"

"Yeah, I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks," Blaine said with a light chuckle. He still sounded tired and maybe a little sad, but Kurt chose to ignore it. There would be time to talk another day.

"I'm pretty sure it's only been four days," Kurt said teasingly. He could feel his cheeks color and was incredibly glad Blaine couldn't see him. That was the thing he feared most when listening to Artie's predictions of the future's phones – no faceless contact. That and the fact that Kurt didn't really do well with more advanced technology than his laptop. In fact, that had been one of the reasons he never went to see _In Time,_ though it meant he had to miss Justin Timberlake with a gun. Well, you can't have it all.

"Four days? It's feels like much longer," Blaine flirted and sent another rush of heat to Kurt's cheeks.

"Oh yeah? Did you miss me?" Kurt teased, remembering the last time they'd seen each other. It had been Friday afternoon in Blaine's dorm room with the sweet sound of '_Baby It's Cold Outside_' filling the room from the speakers connected to Kurt's laptop. They'd sung it, and then once more. Then again. Kurt simply couldn't get enough of Blaine telling him he wanted him to stay.

"Terribly," Blaine chuckled warmly and Kurt thought his face would split from how much he was smiling, both from the memory and from what he really hoped was flirting from Blaine's side. It really did feel good to let himself be silly with someone. Feel like an actual teenager with a crush and not the boy who lost everything.

"Good thing I called then," he said softly.

"Best part of my day," Blaine stated, and Kurt could practically hear his sad smile over the phone. What had Blaine so down? Maybe Kurt should just back out. It wasn't too late for that. "Was there anything you wanted?"  
Now it's too late.

"Eh. Actually, I uh wanted to hear if you maybe wanted to... like hang out this Saturday," Kurt got out. He felt like throwing the phone away, when he didn't get an intimidate answer. It had taken him hours to man up and actually call Blaine – why couldn't he just get an answer already?

"I'd love to. What were you thinking?" came the response. Kurt let out a breath and felt how air rushed to his lounges again. Two seconds of silence from the one you basically just asked out was probably on the list of things giving people heart attacks, Kurt thought, as he explained to Blaine how he really wanted to watch _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ with him. "That sounds amazing, Kurt. Should I come to your house?"

Kurt froze.

How could he not have thought about that? He didn't want Blaine in the apartment! No way was he letting someone into that place. Though it finally began to look at least a little homey, it was not a place he wanted to show off. And how would he explain why he even lived with his aunt, who came off as semi offensive to many at first? And it'd be over his dead body anyone saw the chaotic place he called his room.

"No. Not my house. I was hoping we could be in your dorm room or something," he said tentatively.

"Okay. I mean, I'd have to ask my roommates Pete and Oliver if they'd be okay with it first, but I don't think they'll mind. Just... Should I ask them to leave?" Kurt's first instinct was to be polite and say of course they could stay and the more the merrier, but then he caught on to what Blaine meant. Was it suppose to be _just them_?

"I was kind of hoping it be just the two of us," Kurt said softly with confidence he had no idea where came from.

"Great," Blaine practically breathed. Kurt bit his lip to contain the smile that threatened to overtake his whole face. "I actually haven't seen it."  
"Wait. You're a Tim Burton virgin?" Kurt blurted, which made Blaine laugh.

"I mean, I watched _Charlie And The Chocolate Factory_ along with everyone else. Then I tried watching _Sweeney Todd_, but when they got to the part where they cut people up and made pies of them I turned it off. I haven't had meat pie since," Blaine explained. "I kind of gave up on him from there."  
"But... _Corpse Bride_? _Coraline_? _Edward Scissorhand_s?" Kurt asked, confused on how someone could have lived under a rock like that. Sure, after his dad... he'd had trouble watching some of the scenes of _Corpse Bride_, but he was back on track and looked forward to watching his favorite Christmas movie now with Blaine by his side.

"Sorry, I haven't seen them," Blaine said, laugh evident in his voice.

"You've missed out on so much good Johnny Depp," was all Kurt stated with a sigh, which made Blaine bust. Kurt let himself fall back onto his bed, closing his eyes with a content smile on his face, as he listened to Blaine's beautiful laugh and voice. He couldn't wait for Saturday.

* * *

**December 18.**

**Kurt**

It turned out both Kurt and Blaine had more homework than they'd first anticipated, so Saturday's movie night turned into part study date. Not that Kurt minded. He'd actually feared it would get awkward for them to just meet, watch a movie, and then part ways when the credits rolled. This way they had plenty of time to talk, and Kurt even had a chance to watch Blaine pull his hair, as he did his math homework.

"It's so frustrating, knowing you could just give me the answers, because you had all of this just last year," Blaine said with a deep sigh. He tipped to his side on the bed, making it easier for him to look at Kurt, who was seated on one of the two office chairs in the room. Blaine's room was definitely smaller than Jeff's, Kurt concluded. How three teenage boys could fit into it, was beyond him. Only two dressers? They had to be kidding. Then again, the boys at Dalton probably didn't even keep regular clothes in their rooms, since anything but the uniforms was frowned upon on campus. Kurt had felt the glares one afternoon he'd gone to study in the library in normal clothes.

"I am not helping you cheat," Kurt said with a wry smile, eyes abandoning his geography paper to look at the boy on the bed. He had a fading red area on his cheek from where it had been resting seconds before. His hair was carefully gelled back, even more than usual, if Kurt wasn't wrong. And his eyes never left Kurt's. Blaine's hazel eyes felt like 10000 Watts bulbs shining into Kurt's eyes. Not for one second did he consider turning away. He craved this spotlight even more than the one on stage.

"I wouldn't call it cheating. If you just... helped me," Blaine said, adorable smile on his lips.

"All right, what's the problem?" Kurt mockingly sighed, surprising himself by getting up to squat next to the bed. Blaine seemed surprised too, but fell back onto his arms so that they were both facing the assignment.

"We're going through laws of cosines," Blaine explained as he pointed to question number three. "I have no idea how to start that one." Kurt took a moment to read it to himself, but it was as if the printed letters made no sense to his brain. He could smell Blaine's cologne, hear his every breath. Laws of cosines was about triangles right?

"Uh, I think-" he started, but cut himself off. He'd turned his head to look at Blaine, but the other boy had done the same, and suddenly their faces were close. So very close. Too close? No. "First you draw the pyramid. My math teacher used to yell at me when I'd forget to do a sketch of the triangle," Kurt told him, figuring it was a good place to start, because he then had an excuse to read the question again while Blaine was drawing.

"All right," Blaine agreed.

They got through most of the questions slowly. Kurt kept forgetting things, making mistakes and making Blaine do unnecessary calculations because he was so distracted. It really wasn't the optimal way to do homework, but Blaine didn't seem bored or annoyed at all. He teased Kurt when he forgot a formula, he assured him it didn't matter that he had to erase half a page of work, because Kurt had made a mistake in his explaining. He really was patient.

Finally they'd finished all of Blaine's math, and they decided to just put on the movie already, since they were both too distracted to focus. They placed themselves on the bed, Blaine offering Kurt half of his comforter, which was accepted with a smile, though they made sure they weren't sitting too close.

"You are about to experience something of another world, okay. This movie is everything you thought you'd despise, but for some weird reason you don't," Kurt said as the beginning of the intro began playing. He clearly felt Blaine looking at him, but he kept his eyes on the screen, pretending he didn't see the smile Blaine sent him.

"_It was a long time ago, longer now than it seems_," Kurt started whispering to himself, getting more comfortable as the movie began. "_In a place that perhaps you have seen in your dreams_."

"Are you going to quote the whole movie?" Blaine whispered teasingly, earning himself a smack on the shoulder.

"It is my favorite holiday movie," Kurt defended himself with a smile. Blaine just chuckled softly and returned his attention to the screen. "Now I feel like I can't sing along," Kurt complained when '_This is Halloween_' began playing.

"I didn't mean it like that. You can sing along," Blaine said with a smile, turning towards his friend.

"No, I don't wanna," Kurt stubbornly said, but he was smiling playfully.

"Come on, Kurt. Please sing?" Blaine begged, making Kurt bite his lip to contain his smile.

"_I am the one hiding under your bed, t__eeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red_," Kurt softly sang, making Blaine smile wide and crawl further under the comforter.

How much of the movie Blaine actually saw, Kurt wasn't sure of, because he kept commenting on the lyrics, the imagination behind the characters, the animation, Kurt's singing, Kurt's tears when Sally thought Jack died, and when he wasn't talking or looking at the screen, he was looking at Kurt with big hazel eyes. It made it a little hard for Kurt to concentrate too, but he found that he didn't mind talking softly through most of the film. He quite enjoyed Blaine's voice in his ear, actually.

"Kurt, can I ask you something?" Blaine requested half an hour after they'd turned the TV off and had made it their mission to not eat the last popcorn, because that meant the movie was _actually _over and Kurt had to go home. So they'd silently agreed to just keep talking to avoid looking at the time.

"Sure," Kurt agreed.

"When you called me Thursday and asked me about today, I asked if I should come to your house. You sounded as if that wasn't even a possibility," Blaine said hesitantly. Kurt was surprised to learn he was still as relaxed as he'd been for the last two hours. He could answer the question.

"It isn't really," he told Blaine.

"How come?"

"No one's been at my home. Which is not even a house. It's an apartment," Kurt explained, thinking of how hurt Mercedes had looked that one time she'd asked if she could see the apartment.

"Even an apartment must be bigger than this room," Blaine tried.

"I think anything is bigger than this room. Seriously where do you guys keep your stuff?" Kurt said looking around, which made Blaine laugh softly. "I just don't invite people there. Not even my old friends."

"But why – if it's okay I ask? Do you have embarrassing parents?" Kurt felt his throat tighten and had to close his eyes for a moment to gain focus. Should he tell him? Every fiber in his body told him no. No, this was too much. He wasn't healed enough for this.

"I don't... I don't live with my parents, Blaine," he got out slowly, avoiding eye contact.

"But you're what, 17?" Blaine said, clearly confused.

"17 and a half," Kurt told him. "I don't live on my own, though I can't wait until I do," he quickly breathed.

"Then?..."

"I live with my aunt," Kurt said sadly, finally looking Blaine in the eyes. He'd actually told him. And it felt... Overwhelming. Scary. What was Blaine going to say?

"Can I ask why?" Blaine said after a little while. He sounded unsure, and Kurt felt a little of his fear sustain. Blaine wasn't judging. At least not only on the information he'd gotten. If Kurt told him the whole story though, maybe he wouldn't be as understanding.

"Not yet," he whispered with a sad smile, boring his eyes into Blaine's. It was a promise. He'd tell him, but not then.

"That's fine," Blaine assured him with a smile. To Kurt a simple answer like that meant the world. He then knew Blaine wanted to know, but he'd also somehow made it clear to his friend that pressuring him into telling would not make the information come faster. Maybe it was time for Kurt to start preparing himself to actually tell Blaine the truth.

It was a scary thought. But not unthinkable.

* * *

**Songs used: **

_All I want for Christmas is you - Mariah Carey_

_This is Halloween from the movie The Nightmare Before Christmas_


	11. The technicolor phase

**A/N:** Hey everybody :) I'm sorry it's taken so long, but life is crazy, there was a big misunderstanding and some other stuff, but here it is - the chapter that made me bite my nails. I'm super nervous about this one, which means I'd appreciate your comments even more than usual for this chapter! And while we're on the subject of you as readers, I want to thank you so much for being so kind. I've been so stuck with this chapter and the only things that really helped was talking to my beta (thank you once more!) and reading you guys' reviews. I've read them over and over. Every word is appreciated :)

The song of this chapter is called The technicolor phase and is sung by Owl City. It's super sweet, you should check it out.

Everything takes place on New Year's Eve in this chapter.

Other than that I don't think I've got much else to say. Maybe a quick invitation to come talk to me on tumblr (**bust-my-buttons**)? You're always welcome!

* * *

_Chapter elleven: The technicolor phase_

* * *

**Kurt**

New Year's day Kurt found himself being a part of one of Rachel Berry's many _plans_, which was a totally new experience for him. When he'd been at McKinley they were hardly friendly, most of the time barely tolerating each other in hopes of being the bigger drama queen. When he moved to Westerville they fell out of touch, but since their talk at regionals they'd actually started what could be called a friendship. Sharing Mercedes he'd previously had to at least tolerate her, but after their talk he found himself actually calling _her_ sometimes. Had he told himself a year ago that he'd agree to meet up with her outside the Lima bean New Year's day, he probably would have laughed. No way. But there he was, clad in his new designer jacket, which had been a gift from his aunt along with more gift certificates than he'd ever received in his life. It had been clear she'd been at a loss for what to get him, so she'd ended up making up for the flat gifts by giving him way more than he was ever entitled to.

"Kurt!" the unmistakeable voice of miss Berry herself called from across the parking lot. He reluctantly pulled his hands out of the pockets of his jacket, ready to hug her. "It's so good to see you!" she beamed, as they locked their arms around each other. Kurt simply smiled. "Let's go inside – it's freezing."

Moments later they were standing in line, waiting for their turn to order, Rachel going on about the trip her dads had planned for her to go to Columbus to buy the new piano she'd been promised. Kurt pretended to care, but his smile just got more and more stiff the longer they waited. Finally they got their hot chocolate and found a table to sit at.

"So, New Year's. Since you turned down going to Tina's house for a glee-party tonight I assume you already have plans," Rachel said, her eyes focused on where she was putting extra marshmallows into her drink. Kurt sighed.

"Are you still mad about that?"  
"No, not at all," she said, but she still sounded a little offended.

"Come on, Rachel, I can't go to a New Directions-party – I'm not in the club anymore, remember?" he pointed out, taking a sip of his chocolate. It was good, sweet and creamy on his tongue, a nice alternative to his normal caffeine boost.

"It wound have been wrong to show up, if I hadn't invited you, but I did. And so did Tina. And Finn. And Brittany! It's fine if you want to come! We'd actually all be really happy if you'd join us tonight," she told him, and he was pretty sure she was sincere. She just couldn't top the other invitation he'd gotten.

"I know you invited me. It just doesn't feel right. I haven't seen some of you for nearly half a year. Besides... I have other plans," he explained, looking into his cup.

"Really?" she asked, sounding surprised. Kurt smiled involuntarily – he just couldn't hold it in.

"A friend at Dalton invited me to a party," Kurt told her, thinking of _the friend_, who'd asked him, with a fond smile on his face.

"_Will you go to a party with me?"_  
_"What kind of party are we talking? A let's-all-get-rediciously-drunk-and-pretend-things-didn't-happen-the-next-day-kind? I've sort of always wanted to go to one."_

"_We could make it like that. I'm in. It's a New Year's celebration at David's house. He's invited practically half the school, so there'll probably be a scandal or two."_  
_"Okay, I'll go with you." _

Later David had asked him personally too, but to Kurt, Blaine asking him to a party meant a whole lot more than David inviting him. Though it was nice to have the host's blessing, he guessed.

"So even if you wanted to, you couldn't?" she asked.

"Exactly."

"Well, then I'll just save all my brilliant arguments for another time and move on to the most important reason I asked you to come here," she said, digging into her purse. "I got you a gift," she said teasingly, waving a flat, rather large present in front of him.

"We're doing this now? Okay, I got you something too," Kurt told her, getting into his own messenger bag to retrieve the gift he'd neatly wrapped for her. With a smile and a tiny giggle from Rachel they exchanged gifts, and Kurt couldn't help but smile fondly at the small tag in neat handwriting where she'd written a simple 'To: Kurt, From: Rachel' with a tiny gold star behind it.

His gift wasn't heavy in any way, and he had a hard time guessing what it could be. But once he got the wrapper off and carefully put the bow into his own hair, earning a laugh from his friend, he squealed with joy.

"How did you know?" he gasped, eyes glued to the unwrapped gift, now placed in his lap. Rachel chuckled.

"I remember how you told Brittany about it a long time ago and then I walked by this super fancy book store when my aunt took me shopping last week. Do you- _uhf_!" she laughed as Kurt tackled her in her chair.

"I love it! It's beautiful," he declared, kissing her cheek, making her laugh even more. "Thank you – _so much_!" He happily clutched his new clipboard close to his chest, as he found his seat again. It was just the right size, not too big like some of the ones he'd seen online, and after he tested it by having it hold on to a napkin from their table, he got up to hug her once more. It felt a little weird, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the way he felt about psychical contact at the moment or if it was the fact that it was _Rachel Berry_ he was hugging.

"All right, my turn," she said excitedly, turning the gift Kurt had given her over in her lap. She carefully pulled the paper off, and when she saw what it was, she sent him a knowing, but happy smile. "I can't believe you. This is _amazing_," she stated, eyes and hands focusing on the book she'd just gotten. Is was a book for psychics in training, because he remembered how she used to brag about her abilities, but not being able to fully control them. When he'd been in the book store buying Finn's present, he'd seen the book, the cover attracting his eyes like a 50-percent-off-sign, and he hadn't been able to stop himself. Never had he seen one of those books actually being serious, and when he'd walked out the store with an extra item in the bag, he'd felt excited and not the least regretful. And it turned out his shopping skills won a medal once again, if Rachel's tight hug was anything to go by.

But then again – when had it ever let him down.

* * *

**Blaine**

After an hour and a half of showering, fixing his hair, trying on five different outfits only to call his friend Olive from his old school to get her opinion, and pep talking himself in the mirror,; Blaine was ready to leave the house. In spite of his difficulties choosing an outfit, he ended up looking good, if he had to say so himself. He wore a new pair of dusty gray pants, a relatively thick belt with a silver buckle, his red pair of everyday shoes matched with a dark red jacket and a casual red hat to top the look off. His hair was mostly covered by the hat, but he'd decided to leave just a couple of curls loose to match the look. Just a spray of cologne to his neck and he was out the door.

It wasn't an exaggeration when Blaine had said to Kurt that David had invited half the school to his party. Luckily, his parents' house was enormous,; but as Blaine stepped inside the living room, he still saw people who had to sit on top of each other in order to find a place to sit. Music was drowning out most voices and people had to yell to communicate – at least on the ground floor. Once Blaine managed to make his way through the sea of people filling the dining room, the kitchen, and living room, stopping frequently to greet people he knew, he climbed the stairs to the first floor, figuring his friends would probably be in the TV-room next to David's room. He was right.

"Happy new year!" he greeted them, and was met by a wall of excited yelling from Wes, Jeff and the host himself.

"Blaine! You made it!" Jeff shouted loudly even though the music wasn't as loud upstairs as it was downstairs. Blaine then noticed the empty bottle next to... Kurt. Kurt was there! And wow he looked... stunning was the only word that came to his mind. Never had he imagined the quiet boy he'd gotten to spend time with lately in clothes like that. He was wearing a sleeveless black shirt with a too big hood in a lighter material so that it looked almost like a dark glory around his head, and a pair of fishnet gloves were covering practically nothing of his muscular arms. And was that eyeliner? He was absolutely amazed by the transformation. That was until Kurt smiled hugely and made grabby hands at him, which only resulted in further amazement from Blaine's side.

"Oh my God, let me see your hat! Is that a JaXon hat? I looooove those," Kurt told Blaine, lightly touching his hat as if it was an animal that would shoo away if he approached it too quickly.

"How much have you had to drink already? It's barely nine o'clock," Blaine laughed, bowing down to let Kurt run his fingers less carefully on the top of his hat. When Kurt didn't answer, Wes stepped in for him, laughing at the comical sight of Kurt moving down to Blaine's ears to look at them.

"Practically nothing. He's the very definition of a lightweight. Worse than you!"

"Your hair is curly," Kurt suddenly whispered directly into his ear, making goose bumps appear on Blaine's skin. Did the room get warmer all of a sudden?

"I know," he told him in a quite voice with a smile, before he went to sit down next to Kurt on the floor. Soon Jeff's head was resting on his shoulder, and when Blaine turned to look at his friend, Jeff simply smiled widely.

"How was dinner with your parents?" Jeff asked him, removing himself, trying to clear his head a little. Blaine grimaced.

"It was all right I guess. Quick as always. Can I have one?" he asked, and instead of waiting for Jeff's response, he simply took the beer bottle from his hands. He needed it a bit more.

"You know, I'm glad we did this. My parents are gonna kill me, when they come home, but I think it's worth it. Everyone's having fun, aren't they?" David said, and Blaine assured him that the people downstairs were having a blast. He was just about to ask if anyone had seen one of their other friends whom he hadn't seen coming in, but suddenly Kurt was pulling his clothes to get his attention. When he gave it to him, he was practically blinded by the smile Kurt sent him.

"Hi," was breathed onto his face, and though it smelled like white wine and the skittles he'd been eating, the feeling of Kurt's breath made Blaine's skin tingle. Was that normal?

"Hi," he murmured back, trying to create a bubble between the two, leaving anyone else out of their private little world.

"I can see something's bothering you," Kurt said seriously, signs of the tipsy guy Blaine had first seen almost gone. Blaine's gaze wavered. "Tell me," Kurt softly prompted, as he placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine couldn't help but look to where the pale fingers were touching his jacket. "Is it your parents?"

"Not exactly... It's just my dad," Blaine told him quietly, not meeting his eyes. Next to them Jeff, Wes and David let them have their privacy by discussing wildly whether they should snatch some CD's from David's older brother's room or if it was too risky. Blaine appreciated the gesture.

"What did he do?"

"Not much really. He's always distant, but I guess around the holidays it just hits me harder than normally. It's nothing though, I'm fine," he decided, sending Kurt what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He didn't look convinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Blaine told him.

"You know I don't believe you, right?" He did. The look in Kurt's eyes clearly told him he didn't believe a word coming out of Blaine's mouth. "What did you get for Christmas?"

Blaine was taken aback by the sudden change of topic, but then decided it was for the better. It was New Year's eve after all, and he didn't want to be the one to bring people down.

"The movie Avatar, a gift card to the local hair salon and..."

"Wait, who got you a gift card to _a hair salon_?" Kurt demanded to know, taking a sip from the cup in his hand. Blaine chuckled.

"My grandmother," he told him, which made Kurt choke on whatever was in the cup. "I know! It's terrible. She always complains about my hair – says I don't indulge the Anderson curls properly or something," Blaine explained, but Kurt was still fighting for breath, so Blaine gently patted his back to help him get it out.

"That's an _awful_ gift!" Kurt gasped and Blaine laughed, because even when almost choking, Kurt had control of his facial expression and was sending Blaine an outraged look.

"Are you okay?" he asked instead of commenting further on his grandmother's insensitivity.

"I'm great actually," Kurt said with a tentative smile as he leaned back against the couch like he had before his coughing fit. "I feel..."

"Tipsy?" Blaine suggested with a chuckle and to his surprise Kurt laughed. Actually full on laughed. And the sound was... not what Blaine had expected. That day in the library where he'd tried so hard to make his friend laugh, he'd spent a lot of time imagining what it would sound like and the almost dry haha-laugh mixed with an adorable giggle that came out had not been his first guess. Blaine couldn't keep himself from smiling hugely, as Kurt's adorable laugh just kept playing in his head, even when he stopped to take another sip of his drink.

"Is that what you kids call it now a days?" he giggled, his smile so wide he had trouble wrapping his lips around the edge of his cup. Blaine couldn't decide if he was worried about Kurt or he was happy he'd finally seemed to loosen up a bit. A part of him told him to take the drink from his friend, because Kurt shouldn't rely on alcohol to be able to have fun and relax, but at the same time, he enjoyed looking into those blue eyes and seeing pure joy for once. Those eyes were always clouded under normal circumstances by something Blaine had yet to identify, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness, knowing Kurt had forgotten about his sorrows if only just for the night. And who didn't deserve a night off?

His final decision was made when Kurt reached for the sleeve of Blaine's jacket to study it more thoroughly. Blaine could feel slightly cool fingertips graze his wrist when Kurt felt the fabric inside of his sleeve. Blaine simply couldn't give up a feeling like that and let Kurt continue sipping his way through his drink.

"Uh, David, can I ask you something?" Blaine inquired later in the evening when they'd gathered a group in David's room to play karaoke. It was Wes' turn singing a duet with some girl he'd just met, but seemed to be pretty amazed by. David tore his proud almost motherly eyes from the sight of his best friend singing his heart out to a stranger and focused on Blaine.

"Sure, what's up?" he answered, sitting down on the armrest of the coach near the door. Blaine looked around just to be sure before sharing his question.

"Is Nick not here tonight?" he finally asked. David was quiet for a moment.

"No, he's here. He and Jon are downstairs I think. When you texted me saying you were on your way, Nick saw and they left the group. He was being overly dramatic, saying he didn't want to ruin New Year's Eve for the rest of us by staying." Blaine wasn't surprised. He'd of course noticed the absence of their two friends. He looked over to where Kurt was loudly going through karaoke-games with a red haired girl next to the TV, feeling a tug at his heart and a smile graze his face. If it meant he could see Kurt wrinkling his nose at a video-game with 80's-songs in his everyday life, he could survive not spending the night with Jon, though they were good friends. And Nick... Blaine mostly felt like he could not see Nick for the rest of his life and be happy about it at the moment. He knew when his anger eased a bit and he calmed down he'd probably regret such a statement, but with the false notes of Wes' mystery girl filling the room, and a giggling Kurt trying to pick out a game on the floor, he didn't feel the least bit guilty.

"Maybe that's for the best," Blaine agreed.

"I want you to know, I'm not taking side. I've known Nick for years and you've become one of my best friends in the year we've known each other. You can't make me choose," David clarified when the song changed. Blaine nodded.

"I get that. And I won't make you. Or Wes, Jeff or Jon for that matter. Just please tell me you agree that Nick was out of line."

"He was," David agreed. Blaine nodded thoughtfully. "But Blaine..."

"What?"

"Just... Remember who Nick is, okay?"

"I'm not sure I understand."

"I'm not saying special rules apply to him, but we both know Nick's had it a bit rougher than most," David said slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully, which he probably was.

"It _sounds_ like you want me to bare with him being a complete ass to me because of something that happened to him two years ago."

"That's... not what I'm saying, okay. All I want is for you to have in mind that you're each others' best friend and you don't want to... start something that could have been avoided had you just watched your words," David explained with pleading eyes. Of course Blaine saw where his friend was coming from, but he didn't see how what Nick had shared with him one silent night in the common room nearly a year previous had anything to do with the fight _Nick_ had started. And if Nick had a problem with fights he shouldn't have tried to control Blaine the way he did. Like anyone else, Nick just had to accept the consequences of his actions.

"David..."  
"Look, all I'm asking is that you're careful. If you're mad, then stay away from him – don't try to start a fight just because you're upset. Nothing good will come from you two screaming at each other."

"Do I really seem like the type who would-" But that's when Blaine was interrupted by a hand reaching to steady itself on his arm. Kurt had made his way from where he'd been sitting on the floor to stand next to where Blaine was at the couch.

The conversation quickly died, since neither of them wanted to drag Kurt into the discussion.

"Are you having fun, Kurt?" David asked with a grin. Kurt wrinkled his nose.

"I hate this song," he informed them quite loudly, sending Blaine a pouting look. "I never liked The Jonas Brothers. They were too many," he explained, though his mind seemed to be elsewhere with the way his eyes kept sliding in and out of focus. Then he grinned at Blaine.

"I'll go see if they need anything downstairs," David declared with a smile and a reassuring pat of Blaine's arm. Kurt sat down on the armrest where David had been and tapped the cushion to make Blaine sit down as well.

"You know who I do like?" Kurt whispered in a dramatic voice, making a shiver run down Blaine's spine. He quietly shook his head with a smile. "You," Kurt whispered, biting his lip as if he'd shared a great secret. Blaine's heart stopped. Kurt liked him?

"What?"

"Your voice it's... like something warm- It's like honey, Blaine. Scratchy honey," Kurt said, only slurring slightly, dropping his chin a little to stare seriously at Blaine. Of course he'd meant he liked his singing, Blaine thought, feeling disappointed that Kurt hadn't meant it as in he _like_-liked Blaine. Because he didn't, and Blaine just had to accept that. Though it hurt to have his hope brutally stabbed like that, he just had to deal with it. "I mean I could listen to you sing _all day_! When I- when I saw you in that restaurant... I just-"

"Wait, what restaurant?" Blaine said, frowning.

"The one with the... lasagna. You remember, silly!" Kurt chuckled, batting Blaine's arm playfully, but as he went to straighten up again he lost control of his balance and fell down from the armrest with a little squeal and landed on Blaine – more specifically in his lap.

To Blaine it felt like the world stopped.

One minute he was sitting on the couch, telling himself Kurt hadn't meant what he'd originally thought he'd said, pushing away the disappointment, and the next he was staring into those incredible blue eyes and could feel the weight of Kurt pushing down on him from above. His breathing quickened almost instantly.

But soon those eyes weren't looking at his anymore. They kept searching lower on his face. Blaine's lips. Kurt was looking at his lips.

Blaine could barely breathe. It felt like hours Kurt just sat there, staring thoughtfully at his mouth, almost as if he was studying it like a piece of art. Then his eyes flickered back to Blaine's. And a playful almost confused smile appeared on his face. Blaine felt the corner of his mouth twitch with the wish to smile, but with no air coming to his lungs and the sight of a blushing Kurt on top of him, it was hard to focus on anything else.

And then Kurt moved closer.

As if in slow motion his face came closer to Blaine's own. He dipped his face a little, tipped it to the side and Blaine felt like he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. Right when they were close enough for their noses to touch, Kurt looked into his eyes, took them as prisoners as their lips met.

The kiss itself was still. They weren't moving, but inside Blaine everything felt like it was on fire. He needed air. He needed more! More...

Kurt pulled back rather abruptly with a utterly confused look on his face. The sound of some girl making a fool of herself singing karaoke reached Blaine's ears like someone flipped the on switch. The smell of alcohol on Kurt's breath stung in his nose, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He sucked in a deep breath, but only just in time, because Kurt's lips were back on his, more forcefully this time.

The world around them disappeared as Kurt planted pecks on his mouth, and when Blaine felt an arm around his shoulder followed by those incredible fingers tentatively touching his neck, he simply gave up, closed his eyes and let himself enjoy being kissed. Because that was what it was. _They_ weren't really kissing. But Blaine found he didn't care. He would take anything he could get.

"I..." Kurt gasped suddenly, breaking away only to rest his forehead against Blaine's. When Blaine opened his eyes, he was met by a relieved, happy Kurt smiling at him. Playfully he bumped their noses together, making Blaine laugh breathlessly. Then Kurt was staring directly at him.

"Hey," Blaine breathed and Kurt giggled and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Blaine was floating on cloud nine and it wasn't because he was drunk that nothing in the room made sense but the boy in his lap. Kurt's kisses had been pretty innocent, but Blaine was certain it was just the beginning.

"I... I feel," Kurt mumbled, but instead of finishing the sentence he started laughing softly and let his head fall to Blaine's shoulder.

"What?" Blaine chuckled as he looked down at Kurt, who was slowly gliding down his shirt closer to his chest. He thought of bringing his hand up to brush a lock of hair from Kurt's face, but his body was too content to move.

"I feel funny. My lips, they're all tingly," Kurt explained, turning his head upwards to look at Blaine with a wide grin.

"Yeah? Mine too," Blaine told him quietly with a smile and this time he couldn't keep to himself and slowly let his hand find it's way across Kurt's forehead.

"She's terrible," Kurt suddenly said, pointing with his eyes towards where the girl was still singing into the mic. She truly sounded like a cat having it's tail pulled, but Blaine hadn't even noticed.

Just like he hadn't noticed Jeff walking into the room.

Upon seeing his friend, Blaine quickly straightened in his seat, making Kurt lift his head to rearrange himself, though he remained in Blaine's lap. Shortly after, Jeff was at their side with a smug grin on his face.

"We leave you alone for five minutes and you're all over each other," he teased, making Kurt spin too quickly and fall clumsily to the floor.

"Kurt, exactly how much have you had to drink?" Blaine wondered, as he helped him get up and sit down next to him.

"A bit," he admitted. And Blaine realized he was right. Kurt was a lot drunker than he had originally thought. How hadn't he seen the distant look in his friend's eyes? And if that wasn't enough proof, the way Kurt curled himself into Blaine's arm like a child, seemed to erase any doubt. Jeff's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"Let's go get some air," Blaine suggested to the boy on his arm. As they left the room they could hear Jeff whistling behind them. Blaine turned his neck to roll his eyes at his friend, making Jeff wink at him.

Blaine gave up with a sigh and focused instead on getting Kurt down the stairs in one piece. He didn't need to do much though. Kurt hung on to him like he was going to fall if he didn't. An innocent arm guiding him around the waist wouldn't hurt though.

"Blaine, do you like my shoes?" Blaine couldn't help a smile. His gaze fell on the black boots walking beside his own.

"I love them."

"I got 'em yesterday. I wasn't sure I wanted the black ones, though."

"Why not?" Blaine said and quickly grabbed for Kurt when it looked like he was about to fall.

"I don't know," Kurt marveled, making a stop to think about it.

"Come on, let's go outside for a bit. Where's your jacket?" Blaine urged as he tugged at Kurt's arm to get him to move.

Once they made it downstairs, however, Blaine forgot all about getting Kurt's jacket. Through the doorway to the living room he saw Nick moving towards them. The music was deafeningly loud and people were still everywhere, yet Blaine didn't really pay attention. His only goal was to get away as quick as possible, because he was not ready to fight again.

As if to remind him he wasn't alone Kurt tugged at his sleeve. Luckily he had both his own and Blaine's jacket in his arms and without another look in Nick's direction, Blaine led him out and into the cold night.

"Look at those stars!" Kurt beamed, throwing his head back to look at the sky. Blaine couldn't help another smile. He gently got Kurt's jacket from his tight grip and draped it around the boy, who was still completely in love with what he saw above him. It wasn't before Blaine tentatively took his hand that Kurt's eyes returned to earth and bore themselves into hazel ones.

"It's beautiful, don't you think?"

"Very," Blaine breathed, but he wasn't looking at the sky. Kurt smiled wryly before he confidently and a little forcefully draped his arms around Blaine's neck. Not seconds later Kurt leaned in to kiss Blaine's upper lip. Both were smiling, making it a little hard to kiss, but neither really cared.

"Uhm... Blaine?"

Blaine froze, but didn't remove himself from Kurt. Nick. Just the person he'd wanted to avoid. He surged forward, pushing his lips more urgently against Kurt's which resolved in a drunken giggle from the boy he was kissing.

"Blaine please, can we talk?" Nick begged, his voice weak and almost embarrassed. Maybe it was a little childish of Blaine to choose that moment to cup Kurt's cheek as he deepened their kiss. At first Kurt just hummed in acceptance, but suddenly he was backing away, while having a laughing fit.

"No, no come back here," Blaine chuckled, grabbing for Kurt's jacket, but the other kept shaking his head, as he continued laughing.

"Blaine!" Nick cried rather forcefully. Blaine gave up trying to ignore him and turned his face from where he was trying to get closer to Kurt. He smiled challengingly, which was probably a bit over the top, but Kurt had by kissing him made him feel like he could take on the entire world. Never had a kiss felt like that.

"What?" Blaine snapped. Kurt's laughter slowly died as he watched the two stare at each other.

"I just want to talk," Nick said quietly.

"Why?" Out of the corner of his eye Blaine saw Kurt walk away in the direction of the street.

"Because I miss you," Nick groaned as if Blaine was stupid for even asking. "Is that so hard to believe? You're my best friend, Blaine."

"See, you keep saying that, but it just doesn't feel like it these days," Blaine spat. Nick psychically winced at the sharp tone.

"I know you're mad, but I just need my friend right now, Blaine," Nick said brokenly. For the first time Blaine noticed the way Nick looked. His hair was a little ruffled, his clothes too, and though it wasn't too clear because of the distance between the two, Blaine was pretty sure his eyes were puffy and red – from crying?

For a second Blaine forgot all about being mad at him and almost went to hug him close. Nick didn't usually drink when they went out. Mostly because he instead of feeling free and floating for a while, often just felt sad. It had been during a night with of drinking that Nick had first told Blaine about what had happened to him. Nick had cried. Told Blaine not to leave him. And it had been the look in his eyes that made sure Blaine never did. The exact same eyes that were now looking straight at him.

"Go find David, Nick," was his only response as he walked away.

* * *

**Kurt**

After leaving Blaine to talk to his friend – what was their deal anyway? Were they fighting? - Kurt went to find a quiet place. His head was spinning but if it was the alcohol, the music still coming from the house, or the kissing he'd just participated in he didn't know. The darkness was making it a little difficult for him to see and he found himself walking in the direction of a lamp post to get more light.

At some point the beat of the music from David's house faded and Kurt realized he had actually left. He still felt drunk as he walked down the side walk in a direction he wasn't entirely sure of. With a sigh he stopped at a bench and got out his phone.

"_Hello?_" the voice on the other end greeted him as they picked up. In the background he could hear the voices of his aunt's colleges and the party they were throwing.

"Katherine? It's me... could you- could you come and get me?" he asked tiredly.

"_Why? Didn't you drive there?_" she asked him. His car was still at David's and being brought up by a mechanic Kurt knew all the dangers of driving with alcohol in your blood. Naturally his car stayed where it was even if it meant he had to walk back to the apartment.

"I did, but eh- one of the guys... needed to leave early an' I said he could take my car," Kurt lied, trying his best to sound sober. Apparently it didn't quite work.

"_You don't let anyone near your car. Please don't lie to me that's all I ask._"

"I... had a bit to drink I guess," he admitted slowly.

"_All right... I- look, I don't approve of you drinking, but I also don't see what I can do about it..._" Kurt could hear how uncertain of her words she was, which was probably grounded in how she'd never actually had to tell a teenager how to act.

"Will you come?" he sighed.

"_I-sure. Of course. Let me just say good bye to some people and I'll come and get you_." He could already hear her walking away from the background noise.

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

"_Don't worry about it_," she assured him. "_I'll be with you in about half an hour_."

"I'm not at the house though," Kurt told her slowly. He proceeded to explain to her where he actually was, before he hung up the phone.

Half an hour seemed to help him sober up a bit, and though he was shaking with how cold he was when his aunt pulled up next to the bench, his head was a lot clearer. He quietly opened the door and got in.

"Hey, I'll turn up the heat - you're freezing," Kathrine said gently. Kurt had to admit he was relieved she didn't seem mad.

"'m sorry you had to leave early," Kurt tried to apologize, but his aunt just laughed.

"No problem. I ended up sitting next to this creep from another department who kept touching my leg. I'm glad I had an excuse to leave," she chuckled. Kurt smiled tiredly. He was slowly getting warmer as they drove and suddenly found himself getting dozy.

Their conversation died quickly, but neither really minded. The only sound was the sound of the engine running – and Kurt's phone buzzing in his pocket.

**Blaine: **where are you!

Kurt couldn't help a small smile at the concern he felt seeping through Blaine's text. He quickly made to answer him.

**You: **my aunts taking me home

**Blaine:** I've been looking for you for ten min. you OK?

**You: **im fine

"Happy New year, Kurt," his aunt said softly. With a quick look to the display of the car, he confirmed that it was in fact midnight.

"You too," Kurt smiled.

**You:** happpy new year Blaine

**Blaine: **Happy New Year, Kurt xo

* * *

_I'll repeat... Super nervous..._


	12. Cover my eyes

**A/N:** Hello and welcome back to the story about Kurt and his insecurities and Blaine and his people-pleasing mind. You know the one where Nick and Blaine are fighting, Kurt lives with his aunt, and they kissed on New Year's Eve?

In an early chapter I promised I wouldn't do this story the predictable way and I hope I haven't dissapointed you too much, but I feel like I have to a bit with this chapter. To me it seems quite obvious and I just hope it won't make you lose interest in the story or make you quit it. There are so many of you follow it (nearly 160!) and I'm starting to feel the pressure a bit...

The song used for this chapter is Cover My Eyes by La Roux, which was actually one of the songs I originally listened to when I first thought of this story.

Enjoy the update!

* * *

_Chapter twelve: Cover my eyes_

* * *

**January 1.**

**Kurt**

A hangover was something new to Kurt Hummel. But then again, who ever gets used to those except maybe alcoholics and Santana Lopez?

With a groan Kurt finally got to a point where he could sit in his bed without it hurting too badly if he didn't sway too much. After a couple of minutes he was convinced he had it under control. That was until his aunt opened the door and the smell of waffles reached his nose.

"Kurt are you-?" was all she managed to get out before he'd stormed past her and into their shared bathroom in the hallway. "_Just a little bit_, huh?" she said quoting what he'd told her the night before, her voice full of sarcasm, as she held his oversized sleeping shirt away from the toilet as her nephew heaved.

"Shut up," he groaned and spat into the toilet. "Just give me a towel or something."

When he joined her in the kitchen after taking a shower and getting dressed, he was feeling a bit better. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down, knowing the interrogation could start any moment.

"So how was your night?" Katherine asked, as she put a stack of only slightly burned waffles on the table. Kurt actually felt proud knowing six months previous she never would had tried cooking anything in fear of having to call the fire department. _Baby steps_, he thought, and scooped a waffle onto his plate.

"Uh," Kurt hesitated. His night had started out really good. Jeff and Nick had been super nice to him, let him sit with the group, let him have some? most? of their wine... oh yeah - the wine. And then there had been something fruity but with a bitter aftertaste, and soda with something in it, and more wine - no wonder his head hurt. But what else had he done besides drink and probably make a fool of himself?

After a second it hit him.

Blaine.

Oh dear god – Blaine! Kurt suddenly felt dizzy again. They'd kissed the night before. They'd left together hadn't they? No wait, he'd called Katherine to get him, so they hadn't left together, but... stars? And definitely kissing.

"Kurt?" his aunt prompted with a smile as she took a sip of her coffee.

"It was okay," Kurt got out and then quickly took a bite to avoid saying anything else. What had he done.

* * *

**January 9.**

**Blaine**

"I'm still sorry," Kurt said for the hundredth time, and just like every time he'd said it before it felt like a stab to Blaine's heart. _Okay, you're sorry, stop rubbing it in my face_.

"I know, stop worrying about it," Blaine said in a rush, and if it came out snappy it wasn't really meant to be. But after Kurt had given him a ten minute speech about how sorry he was on their first day back, how completely out of place he'd been and for it to please not change anything, Blaine felt a little snappy, to be honest. He'd been shocked to say the least. To him the kisses they'd shared New Year's Eve had meant something, but after hearing Kurt apologize a thousand times, he wasn't going to state his true feelings only to be disappointed and possibly even loose Kurt as a friend. "Do you like this t-shirt?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject.

They were at the local Gap on one of Kurt's this-is-not-weird-please-don't-let-it-be-weird-tri ps and honestly Blaine just really wanted to go home. They'd been shopping all morning and he was getting tired. And maybe it was the idea of not being able to lean in and kiss a pout away on Kurt's lips when he saw the price tag that wore him out, but Blaine wasn't going to say that.

"I think I saw it in red on a table not long ago. Red is much more your color than green. I'll just go back and see if I can find it," Kurt said, not even waiting for an answer before he walked back to where they'd been looking previously.

Blaine let out a frustrated sigh. How was he suppose to act normal when all he wanted was to push Kurt against the wall until he listened? Maybe while he was there Blaine would kiss him as if it were the most natural thing to do. And Kurt would smile into it just like he'd done that night. _The night Kurt regretted_, Blaine thought with a sigh.

"Blaine. Blaine!" Kurt whisper shouted from somewhere beside him. Blaine shook himself out of his thoughts and looked to his friend. But Kurt was not looking at Blaine. "Don't look, but there's a guy at three o'clock checking you out," Kurt whispered almost as if he was in shock that someone would.

Blaine didn't want someone checking him out. He wanted Kurt to look right into his eyes and tell him he meant something more than a drunken kiss to him. But Blaine wasn't going to make a scene at the Gap, so he dutifully looked casually to his left to see that there in fact was a guy checking him out. He looked like he might be a couple of years older than Blaine, his hair blond and curl. Blaine appreciated the guy's strong jawline, and he was attractive, but...

"He looks nice," Kurt said quietly beside him. "I approve of his look. Very hippie-meets-sophisticated-boy-scout," he then added, making Blaine laugh.

"I guess he does," Blaine said with a smile. He sneaked another look at the blonde before looking back to the t-shirts on the table.

"Go talk to him," Kurt prompted with a shove to his shoulder. Blaine froze. He didn't want to talk to him. Why would he? He looked into Kurt's eyes, and though his smile was subtle and his words unnecessary quiet, he still seemed sincere. Maybe talking to the blonde was what it took for things to stop being weird. They hadn't had a single conversation without Kurt apologizing for a week and Blaine could remember more than one of said conversation ending in awkward silence. Maybe what Kurt needed was a reassurance that nothing had changed, that Blaine didn't feel anything he couldn't reciprocate.

Blaine was going crazy with them being awkward around each other. He wanted Kurt as his boyfriend, wanted him for sweet kisses and secret jokes, but apparently the universe wouldn't let him, and he had to settle for next best: things being the way they were before.

"Okay. What should I say?"

* * *

**January 21.**

**Blaine**

"You've never had Oreos – you're kidding, right?" Blaine asked in disbelief, as his date shook his head and laughed. His date. Second date. Second date with _Jeremiah from the Gap_. Jeremiah who was funny, intelligent and who had said no thanks to Blaine buying him a cookie and instead asked for English tea. In Blaine's eyes it didn't get more sophisticated than that. But... he was still _just_ Jeremiah and not who Blaine really wanted to sit across from.

And honestly, talking and setting up dates with Jeremiah had done nothing good for his relationship with Kurt. Now they barely even talked. Blaine was so confused by the mixed signals he was getting, which led him to asking Jeremiah out again. It was simple, easy to focus on, and it had seemed to be what Kurt had wanted that day at the Gap – for Blaine to find someone else to focus on.

"I've had cookies that looked like them. I used to eat these Swedish ones with jam in them. Not quite the same, but they were very much a part of my childhood," Jeremiah explained, but Blaine was having a hard time caring. Okay, so Swedish cookies... big deal.

"I used to eat pop tarts almost every day when I was a kid," Blaine told him. For a second he thought he saw Jeremiah chuckling.

"I never had pop tarts – always felt like eating sand to me," he said with a shrug and another sip of his tea with no sugar and cream. Blaine only drank tea when he was sick, and then only with at least two spoonfuls of sugar in it. The guy before him was practically alien.

"I always thought eating kidney beans was like putting sand in your mouth," Blaine smiled and took a bite of the cookie he'd gone ahead and ordered anyway.

"Really? My family are all vegetarians, so naturally we eat a lot of beans."

Well, weren't they just the perfect match.

* * *

**January 24.**

**Kurt**

Once again Kurt was biting his nails.

He'd tried his best not to. In an attempt to distract himself he'd cleaned his room. Cleaned the living room. Made dinner. Lit candles all over the apartment. But nothing seemed to work.

Finally he'd given up and curled up on the couch with _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ playing on the TV. He couldn't concentrate on the movie though. His mind kept going back to thoughts that made his heart scream in pain, kept replaying the night that made his toes curl and tears well up in his eyes. An image of Blaine with that _stupid_ smile on his face. Those _stupid_ kisses he'd placed on Blaine's lips and then that _stupid_ guy.

"Kurt, are you there?" his aunt called from the hallway, as she loudly made her way into the apartment. He didn't even bother to answer her. "Wow. Are we out of power or something?" she wondered as she walked into the living room, putting her purse on the kitchen table.

"No, there's power," he muttered distractedly, pointing towards the TV as an evidence.

"All right," she said slowly. "You cooked?"

"No, the elves did it," Kurt replied impatiently. Couldn't she just leave him alone?

"No need to get snappy," she said. When she got no response she stopped what she was doing in the kitchen to look at her nephew. "Is something wrong?"

No answer.

"Is it... something at school?" she tried slowly. No reaction. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he sighed, but he wasn't looking at her as he said it.

"Is everything all right with your friends?" Kurt knew she meant his old friends from McKinley, since he'd never told her about the group he'd become a part of at Dalton.

"Nothing's wrong, I said."

"You just look so sad," she said, as she sat down on the other side of the couch. She turned the sound off the TV and looked at her nephew. Then after a long pause she tried once more. "Is it about a... girl?"

"_What_?" he asked in chock.

"...a guy? Kurt, I don't even know!" she cried at the disgusted look on his face.

"You don't _know_?! What does that even mean?"

"Okay, I'm sorry! I'm sorry. But you never actually told me," she defended herself.

"I shouldn't have to tell you! I came out to everyone nearly a year ago – it's your own fault if you didn't listen!" He got up from the couch, ready to lock himself in his room until his problems disappeared, but apparently his aunt wasn't going to let him.

"No, no, no. Sit down, we're talking about this," she said in a voice that told him not to test her. With a sigh he sat back down on the couch. "Okay. Now you tell me why you're moping like someone told you Madonna died."

"Why should I?" he asked tiredly. "You just proved you don't know the first thing about me."

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't want to assume - and I'm sorry. Just forget I said anything and tell me what's wrong," she sighed.

"You really want to know?" It was meant as a challenge, but his aunt didn't even blink.

"Yes," was all she said. With a lifted eyebrow she gestured for him to go ahead.

"I'm a teenager. Teenagers have problems. Teenagers have feelings," Kurt tried to brush it off.

"I'm taking away your car for the rest for of the week if you keep stalling, Kurt," she said seriously. Kurt's mouth fell open in shock.

"You can't-"

"Two weeks," was all she said with an almost bored expression.

"You know what? Fine! Let's pretend for a minute that we care about each other. Let's pretend we're more than roommates. Let me tell you about my struggles so that you can give me an advice and we'll hug as if we're actually family. Then say good night and forget it ever happened while I probably cry myself to sleep _because talking to you won't help_!" He was angry, hurt, and corned. When the last words left his mouth he was ready to be grounded for a month, no car and if she felt like it she'd probably take away his skin care products – he honestly wouldn't blame her.

"I-" she tried, her eyes trained on the carpet. "Where to begin," she sighed and looked at him. Kurt was surprised to see tears in the corner of her eye. "I care. I care about you so very much, Kurt. I'm a horrible guardian, and I know it. I work too much, I don't check on you often enough, I don't always take care of you in ways a teenager should be taken care of. But I care, okay? And if you hate me, I won't care any less. This apartment is suppose to be your home. I want you to feel both safe and... loved here. And we _are_ family. Your mother was my sister. A sister I loved, but what you don't understand is how different your mother and I were. She was the easy going one. She was the one they all liked, all of them," she said and Kurt could see how it was paining her to say it. "Did your parents ever tell you how they met?"

He had never seen a grown up as vulnerable as his aunt looked in that moment. He simply shook his head. He'd heard of the _love at first sight_ and the _I instantly knew she was the one_ but never in what setting his parents had realized their attraction.

"I met your dad when I was in college and he was 'trying out carrier options' meaning he helped out at a café on campus. We were just friends, but pretty close. Then one Christmas, the weather was crazy and flights got canceled, including your father's. I invited him to my parents house, where your mom was spending the holidays along with the rest of our family. I can't remember the number of times your father used the word 'destiny' while he was still alive to describe the moment. Don't get me wrong, I was happy for them and wanted them to be together, but that night I could count the times your father looked at me on one hand. He practically forgot about everything that wasn't Elizabeth, and our friendship was never the same. I accepted that, went for my dreams of getting out of Ohio and never looked back.

"I hate the circumstances in which I've been forced to come back under, but I can't help but feel like I'm meant to be here again. You're my nephew, I love you, and I'm sorry for not saying it often enough and not being here as much as I want. I look at you and I see Lizzie's eyes, Burt's confidence, and then something that's just... you. You are so strong, Kurt. I can't imagine what it must feel like to be you, and I think that's part of why I act the way I do. You need someone who knows just the right things to say, and I've never been that person. I'm awkward. I didn't have friends until my mother told me I should probably stop criticizing people in the third grade. I don't even have friends now. I have coworkers and contacts, but no friends. I don't know what you'll take from all of this, but hopefully you'll realize how hard this is for me too," she said. It took Kurt almost half a minute to realize she was done. His eyes were stinging. All that talk of his parents hurt in places he usually buried under homework and loud music. It hurt even more to hear his aunt speak somewhat badly about them. Of course, he knew it wasn't meant to be offensive, but his heart was screaming to defend their memory. But he got the message. She was trying.

"I'm gay," he said softly, making her look up and their eyes connect.

"Okay," she accepted with a sniffle as she carefully dried her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I'm _not _okay," he continued. It took her a moment to chew that one over.

"I know," she finally said, her voice full of regret. "I know that and yet I keep ignoring it, and I'll try to be better. Kurt, I promise."

It didn't take him long to decide whether he should trust her. After all, he didn't have much of a choice. Kurt was by nature a forgiving person.

"His name is Blaine," he sighed and threw himself onto the couch again. She nodded thoughtfully as if she understood that her promise was the end of this conversation and the start of a new one.

"Blaine. A last name?"

"Anderson," Kurt responded.

"And he's the reason you're moping?"

"Yes. Well, no. Indirectly," Kurt sighed and thought that maybe telling his aunt wasn't such a good idea after all. How was he suppose to explain how much he'd fucked up without getting into who's lips where on who's?

"Indirectly. Okay, I'm afraid I'm gonna need a bit more than that."

"I- I messed up. New Year's eve I messed it up between us by going too far. I tried apologizing, but he kept ignoring me. Told me to not worry about it, but I saw the fear in his eyes all the time. It was as if he thought I'd jump him if he turned his back on me," Kurt explained the best he could while his aunt listened. "Then I saw a guy checking him out and at the Gap and I screwed up more by telling him. And Blaine just... he decided to go for it and now," Kurt could feel the tears welling up once again. He'd wanted things to work out so bad. That had been all he wanted – for things to either be better or at least stay as they were. And then he'd ruined every chance he'd ever had with Blaine - which weren't that many in the first place – by pointing him toward another guy's arms. And Kurt knew that they'd gone out at least three times. And it hurt.

"Come on, get over here," his aunt urged and with an awkward move to his left he managed to get wrapped in her arms. "Now what?"

"Now he's with _Gap_ _guy_ and I just…. He barely talks to me and we talked _all the time _before New Year's. And I feel like I can't breathe when I see him, and," he was crying by then. He kept desperately trying to wipe his tears away before they hit any of their clothes, but the task became more and more difficult as he kept talking. "And- and the worst part is _I _ruined it."  
"Kurt, I don't think you've ruined anything," Katherine said softly as she slowly caressed his temple. "Maybe he just feels awkward about it, but it will pass," she tried, but then Kurt drew back from her arms with his mouth slightly open and eyes wide in shock.

"That's not what you're suppose to say!" he erupted in a high pitched voice.

"No? Um, he's probably just playing hard to get," she tried again, but Kurt just looked at her in confusion.

"Blaine's a _guy_ not a twelve year old girl." His aunt bit her lip.

"I'm really bad at this," she concluded with an apologetic look on her face. Suddenly Kurt couldn't help a small smile.

"You really are," he agreed as he relaxed a bit.

"What can I do? I could call him and be really embarrassing pretending to be the Gap guy's mom?" she offered which had Kurt snorting with a tiny smile playing on his lips. "I could... lend you my copy of _To Seduce a Sinner_? Buy ice cream?"

"Low fat ice cream?" he asked quietly and she sighed in relief.

"Sure."

* * *

**January 25.**

**Kurt**

Kurt was frozen in front of his computer screen. His stomach felt weird and once again his eyes felt like they were about to overflow.

_Blaine Anderson posted:_ I want to have Jeremiah Mellen's children!

_Blaine Anderson commented:_ Wes! What?! FACERAPE!

_Wesley Montgomery commented:_ I didn't do it!

_Blaine Anderson commented:_Then who did? And how do I delete this post!?

_Wesley Montgomery commented: _You click the pencil.

_Blaine Anderson commented:_What pencil? There's no pencil!

_Jeff Sterling commented: _Yeah who knows where the pencil went along with the erase-button...

_Blaine Anderson commented:_JEFF!

_Jeremiah Mellen commented:_ Blaine, can I call you?

_Blaine Anderson commented:_Okay.

_Wesley Montgomery commented:_ Uhhhhh!

_Jeff Sterling commented: _This is way better than I'd dared hope for!

"Kurt, would you like some soup?" his aunt asked from the doorway. When Kurt just sniffled she came closer and looked at the screen. "Blaine Anderson," she mumbled to herself, obviously reading the post.

"I'm not hungry," Kurt said flatly, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

"Okay," his aunt said quietly. Before she left the room she gave his shoulder a loving squeeze. It didn't help him feel less hopeless, but knowing she was trying made it a little more bearable to accept that Blaine's hand would never hold his own, his smile never be just for Kurt and his lips would probably never form anything but trivial pleasantries in Kurt's direction.

But it still hurt more than what he'd ever imagined.

* * *

_I still have a tumblr, you know. Why don't you come visit me? I really want to talk to you!_ **bust-my-buttons . tumblr . com**


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